


The Price You Pay

by Clowns_or_Midgets



Series: Consequences World [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 14, Angel Possesion, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Long Term Health Complications, Magic, Secrets, Soul Bond, deals with death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 139,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/pseuds/Clowns_or_Midgets
Summary: It was a miracle that Sam survived taking on the Archangel Michael. Team Free Will is going to find out what it takes for a miracle like that to happen and what it costs when a Reaper and unreliable Rogue Angel each decide to help in their own way. There are secrets and betrayals, a world that needs saving once again, but at least they have each other.Rework/Continuation of my story Consequences.Beta'd by JenjoremyPre-read by VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Consequences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770292) by [Clowns_or_Midgets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/pseuds/Clowns_or_Midgets). 



> Welcome to the long-ago promised continuation/rework of Consequences. The only changes made in this chapter to the original Consequences post are small edits. The next two will work basically the same way but we’ll have some new content coming at the end in C4 and then from there on it will all be new.

Dean was sitting across the table from Sam with a fan of cards in his hand and a wide smile on his face. Sam was feeling content, a sensation that felt strange to him for some reason that he couldn’t pin down. He was sure he was missing something important that teased the fringes of his mind.

Mary came into the room with boxes of pizza in her hands and called, “Soup’s on.”

“Good timing,” Dean said, laying down his cards and grinning wolfishly at Sam. “Full House.”

Sam frowned. “I thought we were playing blackjack.”

Dean shrugged. “How would I know? It’s your dream, man, not mine.”

“Dream?”

Dean stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “Yeah, dream. How else would I be here?”

“You need to get some sleep, Sam,” Mary said solicitously, setting her boxes of pizza on the table and touching his shoulder. “You’re exhausted.”

“But I’m already sleeping. I must be if this is a dream.”

“It is,” Dean said. “But you need more sleep. You’re never going to find me if you’re running on empty.”

“Find you?”

Dean stood up and walked around the table to Sam. Sam flinched back, suddenly scared of his brother.

“You have to find me, Sammy. He’s hurting me.”

“Who’s hurting you?”

Dean leaned close and his eyes lit up with blue-white light. “Michael,” he said, his voice echoing.

Sam gasped, the memories rushing at him. Lucifer, Jack, Dean, Dean fighting, the blade in his hand, Dean’s face, twisted with torment as he growled, “We had a deal!” and then the way he’d straightened up and Sam had been unable to find any sign of his brother in Dean’s face.

“You need to hurry, Sam,” Mary said, oblivious to his distress. “Your food is getting cold.”

Sam jumped to his feet, willing himself to wake up and get away from the dream. Why had they let him sleep? He needed to find Dean. He fisted his hands and punched his own chest, but their faces remained stubbornly there.

“Need help?” Dean asked.

“Yes!” Sam said desperately.

Dean stepped closer and a long blade dropped into his hand. Sam backed away and turned to run, but Michael was too fast. He grabbed Sam’s shoulder and held him in place as he drove the blade into Sam’s chest over his heart.

“Better?” Mary asked kindly.

Sam felt the dream losing its grip on him and he sighed with relief, despite the pain drilling through his heart. “Yes.”

“See you soon, Sammy,” Dean said, and then his voice faded along with the shapes of the bunker.

Sam jerked awake with his face pressed against the cool surface of the table. “Dean!” he gasped, straightening up and looking around the room.

“Not yet,” Mary sighed.

She was standing beside him, her hand on his back, and Rowena and Castiel were sitting opposite. Rowena was turning the pages of the Book of the Damned with a greedy look on her face—it was almost greedy—and Castiel was flipping through printouts of Charlie’s deciphering of the codex.

“Why did you let me sleep?” Sam growled.

“Because you needed to,” Mary said. “Jack and Bobby are sleeping, too.”

“They can,” Sam said. “They’re not the ones that are going to get Dean back.”

Mary gave him the sad smile that he was growing accustomed to since the search for Dean had started, then walked to the dresser where Sam had set up the coffeemaker. He'd brought it into the library so that he didn’t have to keep making trips to the kitchen to get his fix. He felt that every moment spent doing anything that didn’t directly lead to getting Dean back was a moment wasted.

She poured Sam a cup of coffee and brought it back to him, patting his shoulder as he took it and drank it down. It was stale and almost cold, but it would do the job.

“Have you found anything yet?” Sam asked Rowena, making no attempt to keep the impatience from his voice.

“Yes." 

Sam started. “You have?” He turned to his mother. “And did you _still_ let me sleep!”

“We only just found it,” Castiel said. “And we were trying to wake you when you started shouting. What happened?”

“Dream,” Sam said then turned his intense stare on Rowena. “What have you found.”

“It’s a spell called ‘Pellere hostem’, and it will expel Michael from the vessel.”

Mary scowled. “It’s not a vessel. It’s my son.”

“Forgive me for not being more sensitive,” Rowena said. “I tend to lose tact when I’m allowed no more than three hours sleep at a time. The spell will expel Michel from _Dean_.”

“That’s awesome!” Sam lurched to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. “What do I have to do?”

“You? Nothing. Well, nothing for the spell. I know you and Dean dabble from time to time, but this requires an experienced witch to cast it. Your job is to be the weapon.”

Sam’s expression darkened. “Weapon?”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry yourself, Dean won’t be hurt, much, but you’re in for a world of hurt. You are going up against an archangel after all. For the spell you have to share blood with him; both literal and metaphorical. You need to injure him enough to draw blood, and then mix it with your own. The metaphorical part is already taken care of, you’re brothers, and that’s only needed to find him.”

“Wait!” Sam held up a hand. “There’s a spell to find him? How long have you known about this?”

Rowena tapped her chin. “Well Dean was taken two weeks ago, and I got the book back on a Wednesday, so that would make it&mldr 1784.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam shouted.

“Because, against my better instincts, I like you, Sam, and I didn’t want to send you off to your death for nothing.”

“It’s Dean, not nothing, and I could have reached him. I could have reached him like he reached me when Lucifer had me. He could have expelled Michael himself!”

“The chances of that were slim,” Castiel said. “That situation was singular. You had honed your mental abilities when you were exorcising demons, and your body was suffused with demon blood. And even then, the odds were against you. We don’t even know if Dean is aware of what’s happening. Michael could have placed him in a dream like Gadreel did you. You going to him without a plan would have ended in your death. I agreed with Rowena when we all decided not to tell you.”

“You all decided!” Sam turned to his mother who stared back at him defiantly. “Did you know?”

“Yes. And I knew it wasn’t worth the risk. I’m not risking you on a plan that would only work with a wish and a prayer. Dean wouldn’t want that.”

“Dean wants his life back!”

“Not at the cost of yours,” Castiel said.

Sam pushed his hair back from his face and tried to calm himself. They were wrong to keep this from him, but it was too late to change that now. They had what they needed, finally, and he wasn’t going to waste time hanging around arguing when he could be getting Dean back.”

“What do we need for the spell?” he asked.

“Things I am sure we have in the stores here and my own personal stash. The Men of Letters kept a good stock of the exotic stuff, and I am always prepared. The one thing that may complicate things a little is grace&mldr” She looked at Castiel. “Got any going spare?”

“Of course,” Castiel said. “I can give you it all.”

“There’s no need for that,” Rowena said. “We just need enough to power Sam up. You won’t be your best self until it replenishes, but you won’t be human. Which, as I hear, is a good thing as, according to Fergus, you made a bit of a hash of that last time.”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t think I was that bad at it.”

“Didn’t you lose your virginity and then get killed by a reaper?” Rowena asked. “Not to mention your stint as a bag lady.”

“I was a man,” Castiel said. “And that was nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Enough!” Sam snapped. “Rowena, get what we need. Cas, give her the grace.”

“Wait!” Mary said, holding up a hand. “What do you mean power Sam up?”

“He’s human,” Rowena said. “If he goes to Michael with the strength he has now, he will be crushed like a bug. The grace will give him a little boost, and it will allow me to use him as a conduit to the spell. Blood will reach blood. Grace will reach grace. It’s quite poetic when you think about it.”

“My grace is no match for an archangel though,” Castiel said. “Even with my wings _and_ grace. Raphael and Lucifer both blasted me to atoms.”

“Then we better hope that doesn’t happen again,” Rowena said.

“I don’t like this,” Mary said. “We’re relying on Sam being boosted with grace that isn’t a match for Michael's, and hoping he won't be exploded  him as soon as Michael sees him.”

“Dean won’t let him kill me,” Sam said.

“Dean might not have—” Castiel started, breaking off when Sam held up a hand.

“He _won’t_ let him,” Sam said confidently. “He would never do that.”

Castiel gave him a pointed look. “Like you would never hurt Kevin?”

Sam glared at him. “Screw you, Cas. Get the stuff, Rowena. We’re doing this now.”

Rowena tapped a page of the book and said, “Okay. You’re going to need something to inject the grace into your veins, something sturdy, and a map.”

Sam walked from the room and strode to the small clinic to get the syringe stored there. It was in the cupboard he’d put it in after Castiel had tried to draw Gadreel’s grace from him to do the tracking spell. He opened the box and saw the stainless-steel chamber and wicked looking needle. Snapping it closed, he left the room then went to his bedroom. He suspected getting away from the bunker without company was going to be a problem, so he needed something to lock down his mother and Castiel. He was sure Rowena would let him go without a fuss. She may like him, but she was a survivor above all, and just because Michael wasn’t destined to kill her, Sam was, she wasn’t going to risk being immolated by another archangel.

He pocketed the two sets of handcuffs and rushed back into the library where Mary and Castiel were waiting with Bobby who was looking bleary-eyed but interested.

“I heard the ruckus and wondered what was going on,” he said in answer to Sam’s questioning look. “Mary says you have a plan for Michael.”

“For Dean,” Sam corrected.

“Same thing, ain’t it,” Bobby said.

Sam ignored him, setting the box down on the table as Rowena came in with a tray of jars and a copper bowl. Someone had rolled out a map on the table and weighted it with empty beer bottles. Sam took the syringe out and turned to Castiel. “Ready?”

Castiel drew his blade and brought it to his neck.

“Wait a minute,” Rowena said. “That’s the last ingredient, and the fresher it is, the better.”

She began to pour and shake ingredients into the bowl, muttering in Latin. Smoke began to rise, and a purple light glowed.

“Okay, Castiel,” she said, holding up a glass vial. “It’s your turn.”

Castiel drew his blade across his throat, creating a shallow cut that grace bled from. Sam held the vial he’d taken from Rowena under it, and the grace flowed inside, filling it with light. Castiel wiped a hand across his throat and then frowned as the cut remained.

Rowena gave him a sympathetic look. “I suppose you’ll need to recharge before you can do that.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sam said dismissively, handing Rowena the grace who tipped it over the bowl. It flowed inside, and the purple light was replaced with blue-white that illuminated the ebbing liquid beneath.

“Give me some blood, Sam,” she said. “I need it before it gets mixed with the grace.”

Sam took Castiel’s blade and cut across his palm and held his hand out to her. She squeezed the heel of his hand, making the blood flow faster, then and lifted it over the map. Blood dripped down and seemed to dilute as it spread over the paper.

“Ready?” she asked and then hesitated. “I feel it’s time to remind you all that spells from this book come with consequences. Sometimes cosmic ones. I’m sure we all remember the Darkness.”

“There's going to be cosmic consequences?” Bobby asked. “And you all knew that before you started?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said. “Get on with it.”

He opened the box and handed her the syringe. She took it and held her free hand over the bowl and muttered something. The light surged, and she dipped the needle into the bowl and drew the contents up.

“Need help?” Rowena asked, offering Sam the syringe.

“I’m good.” He took it from her and jabbed it into his neck. It hurt, but he ignored the pain and pushed it deeper and then depressed the plunger. He felt a burn like acid in his veins as it spread, but he also felt power. It was the same feeling he’d had when he used to drink demon blood. That had always felt wrong though, while this felt right. He dropped the syringe and flexed his hands. The cut across his palm glowed with grace and the wound healed with a faint sting.

A flicker of worry in his gut, Sam asked, "How am I going to get blood if I’m healing like that?”

“You’ll just have to make it a little deeper and move a little faster,” Rowena said, unconcerned. “Are you ready to find your brother?”

“I just need a moment,” Sam said. “Mom, Cas, come with me. There’s something I need to tell you.”

They followed him into the war room and Sam turned to face them. He took a breath and then struck out with his fist and slammed it into Castiel’s temple. The angel frowned, and Sam thought he hadn’t done it hard enough, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped hard to the ground.

“What the hell?” Mary started, but Sam was already sweeping a leg under her and catching her before she fell. He lowered her to the floor and snapped a handcuff around her wrist and the table leg screwed into the floor.

Mary cried out in disbelief. “Sam! Get this off me now! What are you doing?”

“You would have tried to follow me,” Sam said.

“I wouldn’t have followed! I would have come! I _will_ come.”

“Exactly. I can’t risk that.”

He moved away and dragged Castiel to the opposite corner of the table and cuffed his hand to the leg. He turned around and saw Bobby standing in front of him, glowering. “You planning on cuffing me to a table, too?” he asked.

“No."

“Good. Because I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.”

“Me either.” Sam lied as he threw a punch that knocked Bobby on his ass and made his eyes unfocus and slide shut. “I don’t have any cuffs left.”

He went back into the library where Rowena was watching him with amusement. “That was impressive,” she said. “Castiel was easy, the powered down kitten that he is, but your mother&mldr”

“She didn’t think I’d do it to her,” Sam said.

“She would have kicked your ass  if she had."

“I know,” Sam said. “But I’m not letting them put themselves in danger. Now, find Dean.”

Rowena lit a match and dropped it down over the map. _“Viam invenire!”_ Purple flames ignited the blood as if it was fuel and licked over the map, charring the paper. It concentrated on one spot and then the flames died. She picked up the piece that remained and examined it then handed it to Sam. He saw that the charred piece was marking Duluth, Minnesota.

“You can’t nail it down better than that?” he asked.

“I don’t need to. You’ll feel it when you’re close. Just let instinct take over and it will lead you to him.”

“Okay. I will. Don’t tell them know where I’m going,” Sam commanded, walking away toward the door that would lead him to the garage. 

Mary was shouting behind him, but Sam blocked out the noise. She would forgive him when he brought Dean back.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Rowena called after him.

Sam looked back over his shoulder. “Thank you, Rowena.”

“That’s nice to hear, but also not what I meant. When you have Dean, pray to Castiel. I’ll have the ingredients ready, and when I feel the connection made, I will do the spell. Remember, your blood has to touch his. You're going to need to wound him.”

“No problem,” he said, picking something up off the shelf and slipping it from his sheath.

“Is that the archangel blade?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You know you can’t kill him with that. You’re not an archangel.”

“That’s not why I can’t kill him,” Sam said, recoiling from the idea. “I just need his blood.”

And he would get it. He could feel Castiel’s strength flowing through him along with the conviction of knowing he was doing the right thing.

He was getting Dean back.

xXx

Sam stood outside the church and took a deep breath. The blood spell had led him this far, now he needed to go in and find his brother.

The long drive had given him time to think of the problem from every angle, and he’d thought he was ready, but now he was at the point of facing Michael, he was second-guessing himself. What if he did something wrong? If he failed to free Dean now, how would they do it? Would they get a second chance, or would he be lost to them forever? It felt like everything relied on this plan, this spell, and if it went wrong, Dean was damned. Michael would have time to prepare for them to try again; he would know their plan.

Sam braced himself and pushed open the door. The smell of rotting flesh hit him like a punch, and he swallowed reflexively and walked into the church. There was a pile of decomposing corpses in the corner of the room, and Michael stood opposite him, his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile curling his lips that did not reach his eyes. He had changed out of Dean own clothes into a brown coat over a vest with a patterned red tie. 

It wasn’t just his clothes that stole any sign of Dean, though; it was his expression, the look in his eyes. He seemed both amused and scathing. His stance was completely relaxed.

“I felt you coming,” he said. “Though I was expecting Castiel. You took something from him, didn’t you? Really, Sam, what did you _do_ to yourself?”

“What I had to do,” Sam said.

“Why? You can’t think you’re going to beat me with that weak grace running through your veins. It wouldn't be strong enough even if it was still at its original source. You’re only human with no powers to stop me doing what I please.”

“I’m a Winchester,” Sam growled.

“You say that as if it should mean something to me. I’ve heard the stories of you from demons and angels, I know that you have done things in this world, but to me, you are an ant. You know what happens to ants, don’t you? They’re crushed underfoot. I let you live this long as thanks to your brother. I could have killed you in that church, but I decided not to. I thought I owed your brother something for giving himself over to me. But gratitude only stretches so far.”

Sam withdrew the archangel blade from his jacket's inner pocket and held it up. “You won’t kill me?”

Michael chuckled. “Because you’re armed? Believe me, that only makes it more interesting. You can’t kill me, you’re not an archangel; that blade is nothing in your hands.”

“You won’t kill me because Dean won’t let you.”

“You say that like he has a choice in the matter. I am in control here. Dean is&mldr distracted.”

“What have you done to him?”

Michael smiled. “It’s enough to me that you will never know.”

“I will. I am going to save him.”

“I have already done that,” Michael said. “He was the first one saved. He is my vessel now, the closest a human can come to divine. He is a part of me.”

“He’s nothing to you.”

Michael raised his hand, fingers poised to snap, and Sam felt a thrill of fear. He pushed it down and looked Michael in the eyes, and the archangel smiled. “Perhaps not that. I think a more hands-on kill would be better for you.”

He stalked toward Sam, and Sam gripped the blade tighter in his hand. He thought he had one chance to draw blood before Michael overpowered him, and he was going to take it. 

When the archangel was close enough, Sam swiped the blade through the air and caught a glancing blow on Michael’s left hand. Blood and grace bled from the wound, and he looked annoyed.

Sam slashed again, but Michael caught Sam’s wrist and twisted it, making Sam drop the blade. 

“Feel better for your little show of defiance, ant?” He shook his hand and specks of blood flew from it. Sam's breaths caught as he realized Michael wasn’t healing. He only needed his own blood now. Without the blade, he had no way to get it for himself, he needed to wait until Michael drew it for him.

“Get out of my brother!” he snarled. 

“No,” Michael said, drawing back a fist and landing a blow to Sam’s jaw that felt like it shattered it, making him groan.

After a moment the pain in his jaw faded, replaced by the stinging warmth of grace, and Sam steadied himself on his feet. “You’ll have to try harder than that,” he mocked, needing to anger Michael so he would draw blood.

Michael punched him in the gut, and Sam was thrown back onto the dirty floor. His lungs flattened, and for a moment he gasped and swallowed air before his muscles unlocked and he sucked in a noisy breath.

“Get out of him,” he rasped.

“No,” Michael said again, bending and picking up the archangel blade. He lifted it and examined his own blood on the tip  then turned it and leered down at Sam. “Say goodbye to your brother.”

Sam braced himself for the pain, knowing what he had to do and willing it to work. Michel drove the blade down into Sam’s abdomen, and Sam grabbed it, feeling it slice through his palm. The pain in his abdomen was almost completely overwhelming, but Sam was focused on his task. He clenched his fist to make the blood flow before the grace could heal it, feeling it dripping down his wrist, and then grabbed at Michael’s hand. “Castiel, now!” he bellowed.

Michael frowned down at him for a moment, and then his eyes widened as he tried and failed to pull his hand free. Sam knew it was not his grip that held him there; it was Rowena’s spell. He could feel its power pulsing through him, too.

“What did you do?” Michael asked, his eyes horrified as he struggled to free himself

“Saved my brother,” Sam said with a grim smile, knowing it had worked, that Dean was coming.

Power rushed through him like fire and into Michael. Sam shouted Dean's name as Michael’s head flew back and a stream of grace poured from his mouth, filling the air and blinding Sam. He covered his eyes with his arm and fell back against the floor. For a moment he could only hear a high-pitched whine and then Dean spoke, and Sam knew it was really him at last.

“Sammy?”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean felt his head break the water, and he drew in a deep breath of foul-smelling air. His vision was obscured by the bright light that was rushing past his eyes, and his head swam as the high-pitched whine filled his ears. He didn’t understand what was happening at first. It wasn’t until he brought up a hand to cover his eyes and saw it move that he realized it was really him in control of his body again.

He blinked, trying to see through the glare. “Sammy?”

He heard a soft laugh in return. 

The light withdrew from him and funneled through a broken window, and Dean was able to see Sam scrambling to his feet. Before Dean could even draw a full breath, Sam was dragging him into a tight hug that knocked the little air in him out. Dean gripped him in return, cupping the back of Sam’s head feeling the strong comforting weight of his brother.

After Michael took over, Dean had been shoved underwater, and he’d had no idea what was happening to the world around him. He didn’t even know if Sam and the rest of his family were alive or dead. But Sam was here now, in his arms, and Dean had his body back.

He pulled free of Sam’s tight hold and looked him in the eyes. “How did you do this? What did it cost?”

Sam waved away his questions as if they were nothing. “It’s okay.”

Dean shook his shoulder. “Dammit, Sam, what did you do?”

“A spell,” Sam said. “Rowena did a spell. It wasn’t any kind of deal. We’re all okay.”

Dean stared into his eyes, searching for a lie, and saw none. He held Sam away from him and examined him. His hands and the front of his shirt were bloody and there was a ragged hole in the cloth over his stomach.

“Sam!” he gasped. “You’re bleeding. Oh, god, what did I do?”

“Not you, Michael,” Sam said, pushing away Dean’s hands as they reached to lift his shirt. “And the grace will heal it. Look, my hands are healed already. Yours is now, too.”

Dean looked at Sam’s upraised hands and saw they were bloody but there was no wound. He looked down at his own left palm and saw it was bloody but clear of wounds, too. The stain in Sam’s shirt was bigger though, and he panicked. Against Sam’s resistance, he lifted his shirt to see the wound. It looked deep, and the sight of it made Dean feel sick.

“You need a doctor. Where are we? Where’s the nearest hospital? I know you checked.” That was the kind of thing Sam always checked.

“We’re in Duluth, Minnesota, and I don’t need a doctor,” Sam said. “It’s hardly bleeding any more. Let’s just get out of here. The Impala is outside, and our spare duffels are in the trunk. I need to get out of these bloody clothes, and you need out of that suit.”

Dean looked down and noticed his clothes for the first time. Michael had dressed him in a suit and coat with a hideous tie that seemed to be constricting his throat. He tugged it off and shrugged off the coat then threw them both away from him onto the floor.

“Better,” Sam said. “But the whole outfit has to go. Come on.”

He picked up the archangel blade and strode away to the door, and Dean followed him into the fresh, cool air. The Impala was parked at an angle as if Sam had skidded to a halt without care. Sam threw him the keys and Dean caught them then Dean got in behind the wheel and said, “So, where is the hospital.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he slid in beside him. “I’m not going to a hospital. I’m fine. The grace will fix it. It just needs a little time. It hardly hurts at all.”

Dean turned in his seat to look at him. “What grace? Do you mean Cas?”

“In a way.”

“Sam&mldr” Dean said in a warning tone.

“I needed grace for the spell,” Sam explained. “It healed my hands and it will heal the rest in time. It’s obviously not working full power in me.”

“We’ll get you to Cas,” Dean said. “He can take care of it. Where is he anyway?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Where do you think we got the grace from, Dean? Cas is running on empty right now. He can’t heal anything. And where he is&mldr I don’t know. They probably got free by now.”

“Got free?”

Sam grinned. “I handcuffed Mom to the map table, Cas, too, and knocked Bobby out.” He rushed on in response to Dean’s incredulous look. “I couldn’t let them come. They could have got hurt.”

“Like you did!” 

Sam shook his head. “I knew Michael wouldn’t kill me. You wouldn’t have let him.”

Dean turned away. Sam’s absolute faith in him was misplaced. He hadn’t known what was happening when Michael was in control. If Michael had aimed for the heart, Sam would have been killed and Dean wouldn’t have been able to do a thing to stop it. He wouldn’t have even known. It looked like Michael had stabbed Sam, and yet he believed Michael couldn’t have killed him. He was wrong.

Sam took a pack of towelettes from the glovebox and cleaned up his hands. He tossed them to Dean and Dean wiped the blood from his hands then started the engine and reversed around to face the road.

“Take a right and get onto Route 35,” Sam said. “There’s a motel about two miles down. We should call Mom too. She needs to know you’re back.”

Dean patted his pockets, finding them empty. “Michael must have dumped my cell.”

Sam pulled out his own and dialed a number then put it on speaker and held it up between them. Dean took them right and followed the road toward Route 35 as it rang. When it connected, there was the sound of an engine in the background and Mary’s voice was terse. “Sam! Are you okay? Did you find him?”

Sam gave Dean a pointed look, and Dean cleared his throat and said, “He found me, Mom.”

“Dean! Oh, thank god. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dean said, though he didn’t think he would feel fine for a long time after everything that had happened.

“Is Sam?”

Sam narrowed his eyes and Dean said, “He got a little banged up by Michael, but he says he’s okay.”

“I am okay!” Sam said, holding the phone closer to his mouth.

“Do you believe him?” Mary asked.

“Trying to,” Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’ll be fine, Mom. The grace is fixing it. Where are you?”

“I’m on my way to you with Cas,” she said. “We’re about an hour out.”

“Meet us at the Voyager Inn,” Sam said. “It’s on Route 35.”

“I’ll find it,” she said. “You two take care of each other. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, Mom,” Sam said.

“I love you boys,” she said.

“We love you, too, Mom,” Dean said.

They exchanged goodbyes and Sam put the phone back in his pocket. He relaxed back in his seat and said, “The motel is up ahead.”

Dean spotted the lit sign advertising free cable, and he turned on the blinker then pulled them into the parking lot and then a spot. Sam handed him his wallet and said, “You better check us in. I look a little too macabre to go unnoticed.”

The easy way he said it, as if the fact his shirt was coated with his own blood from the damage Dean had done to him was nothing, made Dean scowl.

He got out of the car and walked to the office. There was no one at the desk, and he rang an old-fashioned bell. There was grumbling and then an overweight man appeared through a door behind the desk. He approached the desk and leaned against it.

“Welcome to the Voyager Inn,” he said in a bored tone. “How may I help you?”

“I need a twin and a double,” Dean said. “One night.”

He nodded and drew a clipboard towards him. He pushed it over the desk and said, “Fill that out.”

Dean took the pen and began to fill in fictional details for them. When each box was filled, he handed over the credit card from Sam’s wallet and waited as the man run it through the system. “It’ll be $100 even for the night,” he said. “You’ve got thirteen and fourteen. They’d on the end. Thirteen’s the double.”

“Yeah, fine,” Dean said distractedly. “Thanks.”

He signed and took his credit card back and the two room cards. He was turning to leave when the man said. “Is that blood on your jacket?”

Dean looked down and saw a patch of dark red on his jacket. It must have transferred from Sam when he’d hugged him.

“I spilled my drink,” Dean said.

“Looks like blood to me.”

“It isn’t. Thanks for your help.”

He rushed out of the office and back to the car where Sam was sitting with his head tilted back and a hand on the bloodiest part of his shirt. Dean yanked open the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, straightening up. “You know grace feels weird. It’s healing slowly so it feels weird for longer. I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Dean growled. “That word is losing all meaning coming from you.”

"What would you prefer?”

“I would prefer that you go to a hospital,” Dean said. “But if you’re going to keep being a stubborn ass about that, I’m checking your wound as soon as we get in our room.”

“Sure, fine,” Sam said lazily.

Sam climbed out and went to the trunk. Dean unlocked it and took out their bags and the med kit they kept there. Sam reached for the bag and wavered.

“Seriously, Sam!” Dean said, steadying him with a hand on his back. “You need a doctor.”

“I need you to stop stressing,” Sam said. “It’s just the blood I lost. You know grace can’t fix that. Get me juice and a cookie and it’ll be good.”

Sighing, Dean shouldered his bag and handed Sam the keycard. “We’ve got thirteen. Get your ass in there.”

Sam walked away, his footsteps slow, and Dean went to the vending machines outside the office. He got two cans of soda and some candy bars. Sam was joking about needing juice and a cookie, but Dean was going to get some sugar into him.

He went to the room and followed Sam inside before letting the door swing closed behind him. “Okay,” he said. “Sit your ass down and let me look at what I did to you.”

“Michael did it,” Sam said firmly.

He took off his shirt though and sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Dean with an air of obvious impatience.

Dean went into the bathroom and soaked the edge of a thin towel in cool water then carried it back to the room and pushed Sam so he was leaning back on his elbows. He wiped at the drying blood around the wound and then wiped it clean with an alcohol wipe. Sam didn’t even flinch as he touched the wound.

“It is healing,” Dean conceded. “I don’t think you’re going to need stitches anyway.”

“Told ya."

Dean dried the area and covered it with a dressing. “I still think you should have got it checked out. It looks like it went deep.”

Sam sat up. “Dean, I know it’s probably easier for you to displace onto me instead of talking about what happened to you, but I’m fine.”

“Who’s displacing?” Dean asked, a bite to his tone.

“You are. And I get it, but you can stop now. I’m fine.”

Dean picked up a can of soda from the table and said, “Shut up and drink this.”

Sam grinned as he popped the top and took a swig. Dean was surprised at his easy acceptance, and then he realized Sam had gotten exactly what he’d wanted. Dean had dropped the subject of getting him checked out and was now distracted by avoiding the topic Sam knew he would hate to discuss.

“Bitch,” he muttered.

Sam laughed. “Jerk.” He took another swig of his soda. “It’s not that late. Want to go get a drink? Mom and Cas won’t be here for a while.”

“No, I want you to lie down and rest your penetrating gut wound."

“Probably a good idea,” Sam said taking another drink.

Dean sat on a chair opposite him and watched Sam as he set down his soda then rooted in his duffel and took out a clean t-shirt. He pulled it on, concealing the dressing on his stomach, and Dean surveyed him. He was a little pale, but he had lost blood so that was explained. His hands were steady though and his eyes alert and bright. Dean thought he probably was okay.

“So, what happened while I was gone?” he asked.

Sam considered a moment. “A lot of craziness to be honest. Nick is alive.”

Dean gaped. “Lucifer’s vessel Nick?”

“Yeah. We were in the church, just after Michael took off, and he woke up in a hell of a lot of pain. I thought it was Lucifer at first, and I wasn’t sure whether to start stabbing or running, but Jack could see that it wasn’t an angel. It looks like the archangel blade kills the angel but not the vessel. He was banged up, but he’s healing well.”

“Where is he?”

“In the dungeon. He’s not chained up, but we all felt better with him somewhere we could lock him down if we needed to. We should probably get back there actually. No one else seems ready to go near him yet. They still see Lucifer.”

“And you don’t?” Dean was surprised Sam was able to be around him after everything Lucifer had put him through. He would have expected Sam to be the last person to want to face him.

Sam shrugged. “Someone had to help him. And it wasn’t Nick’s fault what happened. He says he was desperate when Lucifer came to him, his family had been murdered. He was in a bad place and made a mistake. We’ve both been there.”

Dean understood what he was referring to, Ruby and Cain, and neither of them needed to say more.

“What about Bobby? How’s he doing? And Charlie.”

“Rowena and Charlie’s road trip was cut short by the Michael problem, so Charlie took off on her own while Rowena came back to help. Bobby is pretty much sticking with Mom. They were both working on the Michael problem with me. He takes care of the rest of his people, too. They’re all set up in the Rodeway in town. Bobby says some of them about talking about starting to hunt. They seem to want to do something more than just sit around Lebanon.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Dean asked. “Just because they lived in crazy town, doesn’t mean they’re cut out for hunting.”

“They’ve lived through a war, Dean. They’re more prepared for it than anyone I know starting out. I don’t think they can just step back and build a regular life. They need to keep fighting.” Sam yawned widely then touched a hand to his stomach and winced.

“Sam&mldr Dean started.

“It’s nothing,” Sam said. “Just the grace.” He yawned again.

Dean stood up and plucked the can out of Sam’s hand. “Okay, you’re sleeping now.”

“You seriously expect me to be able to sleep? Dean, I just got you back. We need to talk.”

Dean saw his genuine fear, and he thought he understood. “I’m not going anywhere, Sammy,” he said. “I’ll be here in the morning, and we can talk all you like then. Right now, you’re going to sleep and heal.”

Sam looked defiant for a moment, and then he sighed and swung his legs up on the bed and settled on his side, facing away from Dean. Dean tugged the blankets out from under him with effort and threw them over him.

“Sleep,” he said. “I’m sure Mom will wake you up when she gets here. She’s going to be pissed that you handcuffed her to a table.”

Sam laughed softly. “Yeah. Maybe tell her to let me sleep. She can haul me over the coals tomorrow.”

“Coward.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I am.”

Dean patted his back and said, “You’re really not, Sam. It took guts to do what you did, coming after Michael like that. He could have killed you.”

“You did it for me when Lucifer had me,” Sam said. “And I trusted you. He couldn’t have killed me.”

Dean closed his eyes, glad Sam couldn’t see his pained face. He thought they’d got off lucky with Sam’s wound. If he didn’t have the grace in him, Sam would be dead. As it was, Dean was going to have nightmares about what could have happened—more nightmares to add to the many he already had.

“I’m going to get some air,” he told Sam.

Sam didn’t respond, and Dean leaned over him to see he was already asleep.

“Told ya,” Dean murmured, turning on the dim lamp beside the bed and flipping off the overhead light.

He quickly changed out of Michael’s suit and into his own jeans and shirt, pausing when he saw the scar on his upper arm. He hadn’t had it when Michael had taken him over, so that meant it was Michael’s injury. He knew he needed to find out what had happened, so they could make a plan for what happened next. If Michael could be injured with a weapon other than the archangel blade it was going to be vital to stopping him.

He slipped out into the cool night air, shivering. He didn’t have a jacket, but he didn’t care. The fact he could even feel the cold felt good. It was infinitely better than the icy water that had drowned him while Michael had been in charge.

He looked up at the sky, seeing the few stars that were creeping through the cloudy sky. He’d thought he would never see stars again, or his brother and family. He had been more scared of that than the water that constantly drowned him. It felt like a miracle that he was back, but he hated that it had almost come at the cost of Sam’s life. If Michael had aimed different, if he’d gone for the quick kill instead of the hurt, Dean would have stayed trapped and Sam would have died.

Sam had saved him, and they were together and almost okay—Sam just needed time to heal. It was how close it had come to ending differently that scared Dean. Luck had got them both out of it alive, but there would come a time when their luck would run out.


	3. Chapter 3

Only thirty minutes after Sam fell asleep, Dean heard the sound of an engine being pushed to the limits approaching. Mary’s car skidded into the parking lot and slammed to a stop beside the Impala. She threw herself out from behind the wheel and came at him. He just had time to bring up his arms to catch her before she collided hard with him and squeezed him tightly.

“Dean,” she said in a kind of moan. “I thought…”

Dean hugged her back. “I’m here,” he said. “It’s over.”

That was a lie, and they both knew it. Dean was back, but Michael was still out there, and he had to be stopped. Dean was back, but their fight was just starting. 

Mary pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. “How do you feel?”

“Like me again.”

She beamed, though tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. “I brought you something.” She went back to the car, wiping at her face, and Castiel approached.

“Dean…” He sounded as shocked to see him as Dean felt to be back. Dean supposed Castiel hadn’t really believed it was real until he’d seen him. Dean could relate. He’d felt the same when Castiel had come back from the Empty. 

Dean hugged him and Castiel gripped him back with less strength than usual. Dean figured the weakness was due to the fact that Sam had taken some of his grace for the spell. They parted as Mary approached and held up a bottle of whiskey. “I thought we could all use some of this. Where’s Sam?”

“Sleeping,” Dean said. “He needed it. Want me to wake him? I warned him you were going to be pissed about the handcuffs thing.”

“I am,” she said seriously. “But he can sleep. He needs it. He’s barely rested at all since you disappeared. Castiel put him out a couple times, though he doesn’t know it, but it wasn’t enough.”

Dean wanted to know more about what had happened to Sam while he’d been gone, but he decided it was a conversation better had when they were inside with drinks in their hands. He took out the keycard to the second room and unlocked the door. Mary and Castiel went in and Dean glanced back at his own room before following, wondering if he should check on Sam first. He decided against it. He didn’t want to wake Sam while he was getting some rest, especially as Mary said he hadn’t gotten much of it lately. 

He clicked the door closed behind him and went to the small kitchenette to get mugs. “You drinking, Cas?” he asked.

“There seems little point,” Castiel said. “Even with depleted grace, it’s not going to taste as it should.” He sounded disappointed.

Dean took the mugs to his mother who poured a measure into each then he carried his to the bed and perched on the edge, leaving Mary and Castiel the chairs.

“How is Sam?” Mary asked.

“He’s okay,” Dean said. “He got banged up by Michael, but the grace is fixing it. How’s he really been while I was gone though?”

“Not good,” Castiel said. “Your mother is right when she says he’s not been sleeping. He has been completely absorbed in what had to be done. When he was not searching for a way to save you, he was taking care of Nick and Jack.”

“Yeah, he told me about Nick. That’s a head trip in itself. What’s he like?”

Mary shrugged. “I’ve only been close enough to help Sam dress his wounds when he was still unconscious, and that was bad enough. I haven’t been near him since he woke up. It’s too weird. Sam’s been taking care of him. Sam says he’s a mess though, traumatized.”

“I’m sure you can understand that,” Castiel said, giving him an appraising look.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Something you want to ask, Cas?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “What happened to you when Michael was in control?”

Dean considered the answer carefully. He didn’t want to lie to them as he felt like he did too much of that already, but they didn’t need to know the truth. It wouldn’t help any of them.

“It was the same as Gadreel did to Sam. I thought I was in the bunker with you all. It felt real. I had no idea anything was wrong until I woke up with Sam there. To be honest, I’m just glad he didn’t leave me a drooling mess like Raphael did his vessel.”

“That is good,” Castiel said. “And unexpected. With everything we learned of Michael in that world, I thought things would have been much more unpleasant for you.”

Dean forced a smile. “Me too, but I’m not complaining.”

“Of course not,” Mary said. “We’re all glad it wasn’t worse.”

“What about Jack?” Dean asked. “How’s he doing?”

Mary and Castiel exchanged a glance and Mary said, “Not well. Bobby has offered to train him how to fight, but he’s really struggling without his powers. He’s never been without them in his life. It’s an adjustment. And I think we’ve let him down. Sam tried to help him, but there’s only so much time he could spare, and we were all consumed with getting you back. I think now that you’re back it will be easier. We can all spend time with him.”

“We can,” Dean assured her, though he was worried it wasn’t going to be that simple. He might be back, but Michael was still out there, and he could get another, weaker vessel like Lucifer did with Nick. If he had a body again to start calling the shots with, they were in for a world of hurt.

“What about this spell?” he asked. “Where did it come from?”

“The Book of the Damned,” Mary said bitterly, as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

Dean’s heart sank. “The cosmic consequences spellbook?”

Mary nodded.

Dean cursed. “That’s awesome.” He glared at Castiel. “You let him do that, after what happened with Amara?”

“I did,” Castiel said. “It was needed. And Rowena has used spells from the book since Amara, and there were no consequences for her. I believed it was worth the risk, and so did Sam.”

Dean knocked back his whiskey and held out his mug for Mary to pour him another. She took it and returned it with a generous measure.

He could understand Sam using the book to save him, as that was what they did, made stupid choices for each other, but he would have expected Castiel to have more sense. There might not just be Michael to deal with now. There might be a cosmic level price for the spell as well. Dean was frustrated that they had made that choice.

“It was more than just you, Dean,” Castiel said. “In his vessel, Michael was a huge threat. We have bought ourselves some time by expelling him.”

“And if he gets a vessel like Lucifer got Nick?”

“It would be hard for him. He would need a very strong vessel, and there are only so many available, even fewer that are willing. The fall took many vessels out of circulation.”

Dean tried to feel comforted, but he couldn’t manage it.

“We’ll deal with it, Dean,” Mary said. “Now we have you, too, we can work together to find a way.”

Dean nodded, but he knew that she didn’t really understand what could come for them. She’d never lived through an apocalypse before the way they had. She’d seen what Michael had done to his world, and she’d been with Jack when he was plotting to kill him, but that was only to stop him after the fact. It had been too late to save the already ruined place. She’d never fought through a battle to save a world. Dean, Sam, and Castiel had, more than once, and they knew what it could cost them.

“How is Sam really now?” Castiel asked. “He obviously got the blood for the spell, but how did he do it?”

“It looked like he’d slashed his hands from the blood on them, but they were healed pretty quick. He got a little more banged up, but the grace is doing the job.”

“Banged up how?” Mary asked. “What did Michael do to him?”

Dean winced, not wanting to admit what his own hands had done to Sam, especially if they had believed, like Sam, that he would have saved him from Michael.

“What, Dean?” Mary pressed.

“Michael stabbed him,” Dean said. “He has a wound in his gut. It was nearly healed when I checked it though. His worst problem was the blood he’d lost. He said he was okay though.” He couldn’t hide the hint of self-defense in his voice.

Mary looked horrified. “He was stabbed!”

Castiel reached across the table and touched her arm. “He has almost all of my grace in him. He has probably healed already. The blood loss is the only thing it can’t help, but his body can deal with that with time and rest.”

Mary didn’t look reassured. She got to her feet and held out her hand. “I need the key for your room. I want to check on him.”

“I’ll coming too,” Dean said, infected by her worry now. “Cas, you can still sense him like you did before, right, even without all your grace?”

“Yes. I will check him for you.”

Dean got quickly to his feet and set down his mug of undrunk whiskey and opened the door. He strode quickly to his and Sam’s room and unlocked the door. Sam was sleeping in the same position he had been before, though his hand had fallen from under the blankets.

Dean rounded the bed, feeling better now he saw Sam resting peacefully, and took Sam’s hand to tuck it back under the blankets. He froze when he felt how cold and clammy it was. 

“Cas?” He looked up and saw Castiel’s eyes were wide and his expression horrified. “Cas!”

Castiel quickly came to the bed and reached for Sam. He touched his hand to his temple and concentrated, but there was no glow under his palm as Dean was expecting.

“Castiel!” Mary snapped. “What is it?”

“Call an ambulance,” Castiel said tersely.

Dean pressed his fingers to Sam’s neck, feeling for his pulse. At first, he couldn’t find it, and he panicked, and then he registered the weak and rapid thrum under his fingertips.

Dean looked up and saw Mary standing with her phone pressed to her ear, her own face pale as she gave the address of the motel. The operator obviously said something as she looked up from Sam and fixed her eyes on Dean. “How is he?”

“His pulse is fast and weak,” Dean said, pinching Sam’s earlobe hard and getting no reaction. “And he’s unconscious and not responding to pain. Cas?”

“He has an internal bleed,” Castiel said worriedly.

Mary recounted what Dean had told her and then said, “We think he’s bleeding inside.” She paused and listened for a moment. “Yes, we’ll wait for them.” She ended the call and said. “Someone needs to be outside to show them where we are.”

“I’ll go,” Castiel said, rushing from the room.

Mary approached the bed slowly and said cautiously, “Sam, wake up now.”

Dean knew he couldn’t, and the knowledge made him feel sick. He rolled Sam onto his back and lifted his t-shirt to see his stomach. It was distended and hard, and Dean swallowed as he knew what that meant. It wasn’t just an internal bleed as Castiel said; it was a big one.  He peeled back the dressing over Sam’s wound and saw that it looked almost healed now, just the barest sliver of open skin. What was happening to him was all happening on the inside.

Dean covered him with the blanket again to warm his chilled skin. Mary came around the bed to him and pulled off the blankets from the second bed and laid them over Sam, tucking them around his shoulders.

She touched Sam’s cheek and winced. Dean checked his pulse again, and it was still rapid. With his hand close to Sam, he felt the change the same moment Mary said, “Dean!”

Sam’s breaths, that had been steady and deep, were weakening and becoming shallow. He quickly tilted Sam’s head back to open his airway fully and said, “Take it easy, Sammy.”

Mary’s hand hesitated over Sam’s shoulder. “Where’s that damn ambulance?”

“Maybe go and wait with Cas,” Dean said, knowing she needed the space from what was happening. When she looked hesitant, he said, “Go, Mom. They need to know where we are as soon as they get here,” even though he knew Castiel was more than capable of doing that. She rushed from the room and Dean leaned close to Sam’s ear. “Don’t you dare do this to me, Sam. You _will_ hold on. You don’t get to give up.”

He knew he could have been imagining it, but he thought Sam’s breaths were stronger. He held his fingers to Sam’s throat, reassuring himself that Sam was fighting with the beats against his fingers.

He heard the ambulance sirens in the distance and said, “They’re here, Sammy. They’re going to fix you right up. Just hang on.”

The sirens cut off, but the room was filled with rolling blue light through the thin curtain at the window.  Mary rushed in first, saying, “He’s here!” and two male EMT’s followed her in and came straight to Sam.

One of them went into action at once, snapping on gloves and checking Sam’s pulse while the other asked, “Can you tell us what happened?”

“He’s bleeding,” Dean said. “He got hurt, but he’s bleeding inside.” He pulled back the blankets and the EMT’s practiced eyes found the wound. He pressed his fingers to it, spreading the open skin slightly, and asked. “When did this happen?”

“I’m not sure,” Dean lied. “Not long ago. He heals really fast.”

The EMT pinched Sam’s fingertip and watched at the skin whitened. It seemed to take an age for the skin to pink up again.

“He’s bleeding somewhere in his abdomen,” he said. “His perfusion is shot. We need to load him up.”

He disappeared out the door, and Dean fixed his eyes on the remaining EMT that was checking Sam’s pupils, which were dilated. Suddenly, Sam’s weak breaths became gasps and he began to shake.

“What’s happening?” Mary asked desperately.

“Rich!” the EMT shouted. “He’s going down. We need the backboard!”

The EMT called Rich rushed back into the room with a slatted piece of plastic in his hands and said, “Give us space.”

Mary backed away, but Dean was frozen in place. Castiel grabbed his arm and dragged him away to stand at the end of the bed. Dean watched as they slipped the backboard under Sam and the second EMT began cardiac massage as Rich took an Ambu-bag and mask from his bag and fitted it over Sam’s face. He pumped it twice and then took a box from his bag and set it on the bed. He pulled up Sam’s t-shirt to his shoulders and attached large gelled pads to Sam’s chest, one on the right and the other on his left side below his heart. He flipped a switch and there was a hum as the machine came to life. Sam’s absent heartbeats were recorded as a single line on the small screen, and there was a droning sound.

“Ready?” Rich said, and at the second EMT’s nod went on, “Clear!”

They both pulled their hands away from Sam and Rich hit a button on the machine. There was a jolting sound and Sam’s back arched up from the bed.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean said. “You can do it.”

“Restarting compressions.”

Rich adjusted something on the machine and said, “Clear!”

There was another jolt and Sam arched up again. Dean was dimly aware of his mother’s shaking hand in his and the sound of her sobs, but his focus was on Sam and the drone of the absent heartbeat alarm.

“360?” Rich asked.

“Do it.”

Rich adjusted the machine, hit the button, and Sam’s body arched up again. Dean held his breath, waiting for the sound that he needed, and then it came. Sam’s heartbeats recorded on the machine, still too fast, and the second EMT said, “I’ll tube him. You get the gurney.”

As Rich ran from the room, the EMT took a curved metal tool from his bag and a plastic-wrapped tube. He tore open the plastic and tilted Sam’s head back then threaded the metal tool down his throat and eased in the tube. He nodded to himself and took out the tool then added an elastic band to hold the tube in place.

“I’ve secured his airway,” he told Rich as he wheeled in the gurney, “but we need to move fast.”

They moved Sam from the bed onto the gurney and wheeled him to the door.

“Who’s coming?” Rich called over his shoulder.

“Me!” Dean said, yanking his hand out of his mother’s grip. He took the Impala keys from the table and threw them at Castiel. “You drive, meet us there.”

“We’re going to St Luke’s,” Rich said. “It’s on First Street, drive north and look for the pier.”

“I want to stay with him,” Mary said.

“There’s only room for one in the wagon,” Rich said, pushing Sam out of the door without another word.

Leaving his mother and Castiel, Dean ran out after them and waited as they loaded Sam into the ambulance. The second EMT went to the front and Dean followed Rich inside. He sat on the folding seat opposite Sam and watched as Rich attached a cuff to Sam’s arm and an oximeter to his fingertip and connected it to a machine.

“Ready?” the EMT called through to the back.

“Yeah, he’s in,” Rich said.

The sirens started again, and Dean was jostled as they drove onto the road and then sped away from the motel.

He fixed his eyes on Sam’s pale face and said, “You hold on, Sammy. Just hold on,” willing him to hear and to do as he was told for once.

He listened to the rapid beats as Sam’s heart rate was recorded on the box on his legs, and he felt his own racing just as hard. Sam had said he was okay; he had told Dean he was fine. Why had Dean listened? He’d been fooled by the fact that it looked like it was healing. He hadn’t considered what could be happening beneath the surface. How could he have let this happen?

Rich picked up a clipboard and said, “Okay, he’s called Sam, yes?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, Sammy. He’s my brother.”

“Last name?”

“Winchester,” Dean said automatically, not even thinking of giving an alias.

“Does he have any pre-existing conditions or allergies?”

“No, none. He’s really healthy. He was fine before this.”

“Can you tell me what happened to him? How did he get hurt?”

“He was trying to save me,” Dean said weakly. “He just wanted to help me…”

“Are you hurt?”

Dean shook his head. He was fine, not a scratch on him. It was Sam that was poised on a knife-edge between life and death because he had wanted to help Dean.

He could die, and it would be Dean’s fault. It was his hands that had held the blade. It was him that hadn’t taken control. Sam had been so sure Dean wouldn’t let Michael kill him. He’d been wrong. Dean hadn’t been able to save him. And if he died now, if this was too much for him, it would be Dean’s fault.

“He only wanted to help…” Dean said quietly.

“We’re helping him now,” Rich said.

Dean nodded and tried to feel reassured, but it was impossible when he remembered what had happened to Sam in that motel room. Sam’s heart had stopped. He had died. The fact they’d gotten him back didn’t change the fact that Dean had killed his brother. 


	4. Chapter 4

When they reached the hospital, the doors were yanked open and Sam was unloaded by people wearing yellow cotton robes over their blue scrubs. Rich jumped out after him, reeling off Sam’s status and what had happened. They turned the gurney and began to wheel him away, and Dean jumped out of the ambulance and followed them through double doors into a large room where a group of gowned people waited.

They moved Sam onto a stretcher and slid the backboard under him again.

“What have we got?” a woman asked, coming in and taking a pair of gloves from a box. She snapped them on and approached Sam.

“Sam Winchester. He’s got what looks like a stab wound,” Rich said. “It’s almost healed though. Abdomen distended and perfusion degraded, so we think…”

“We have a bleeder,” she said, and her commanding tone made Dean think she was the doctor in charge.

“He coded at the scene, but we got him back on a third round of defibrillation with 360 joules. BP remains low and oxygen sats are holding in the low seventies.”

“Okay,” the doctor said. “Let’s get an ultrasound in here. Set up a central and arterial line. I want O-Neg blood going in and bolus fluids for that blood pressure.”

There was a flurry of movement and people began calling for equipment and a man rushed out of the room.

“Handing off?” Rich asked.

“We’ve got him,” the doctor said.

Rich made for the door and then spotted Dean standing alone, watching what was happening to his brother. He came over and took Dean’s shoulders. “You can’t stay here, buddy.”

Dean shoved him away. “I’m staying!”

Rich considered him for a moment and then said, “They’re busy taking care of your brother right now. Stay quiet and stay out of their way and you might be able to go unnoticed. If they try to move you out, let them. The more people dealing with you, the less there are helping Sam, understand?”

Dean nodded. “Got it.”

Rich left and Dean tucked himself into the corner, hoping to go unnoticed by the people around Sam.

“I’ve got an arterial line in,” someone said. “BP 70/30.”

“Damn. He’s tanking. Where’s that blood?”

“Here.” A woman rushed in with two bags of blood in her hands.

“Do we have a central line yet?”

“One moment. Here. It’s in.”

“Hook up that blood. Ultrasound?”

A machine was wheeled in and pushed to the doctor who squeezed gel onto Sam’s gut and pressed a wand over the area. Dean could make no sense of the picture displayed on the screen, but the doctor frowned and said, “We’ve got free blood in here. A lot of it. Someone call down to the OR to tell them we’re coming. I’ll take it.”

“Doctor Simons! He’s crashing.”

Dean heard it too. Over the noise of the room was the sound of Sam’s heart monitor racing too fast.

“Pulseless V-Tac. Stand back. We’re going to shock him.”

Dean covered his face with his hands and stared with wide eyes at Sam as the jolt lifted his back from the bed.

“No pulse, no movement.”

“Again!” Doctor Simons said.

There was the same jolt and then thud as Sam flopped back onto the cot, and someone said, “We’ve got a rhythm.”

“It’s weak, but it’s there,” Doctor Simons agreed. “Prepare him for surgery. I’ll meet him down there.”

She rushed from the room and people flurried around Sam, hooking up the bag of blood and attaching a machine to the tube in Sam’s throat. Dean watched them, standing in his corner, until he was wheeled out at speed and he tried to follow.

A man in a yellow trauma gown stopped him and said, “They’re taking him to surgery now. You can’t go with him.”

“I need to,” Dean said. “He’s my brother.”

“I’m sorry but you can’t. He’s is in the best possible hands though. They’re doing everything they can for him.”

“He died,” Dean said weakly. “He keeps dying.”

“But he’s alive now, and that’s what matters. Did you come here alone? Is there anyone I can take you to?”

“Mom and Cas should be here by now,” Dean said vaguely.

“Then let’s find them.”

He tugged Dean’s arm, and Dean followed him out of the room into a larger room with cubicles separated by curtains. It was full of people, some lying on beds, bleeding or clutching themselves with grimaces of pain. They passed through that room into an even larger room with rows of chairs housing people, some with the tired expressions of those that had been waiting too long and others looking worried.

Dean looked around and saw his mother and Castiel haranguing the woman at the desk, demanding information. Castiel saw Dean first, and he grabbed Mary’s arm and turned her from the desk. Looking frustrated, Mary turned, and her face morphed into stress again.

“Dean!” She rushed at him and put her arms around him. Dean’s stayed stiff at his sides. She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. “How is he?”

“It’s bad, Mom,” Dean said hoarsely past the lump in his throat. “They had to shock his heart again.”

Mary’s hands fell to his shoulders as she steadied herself on him.  

“Sam is being taken to surgery now,” the man that had brought Dean out said. “If you like, I can take you somewhere a little quieter to wait.”

“That would be helpful,” Castiel said when Dean and Mary failed to respond.

“Come with me.”

They followed him through a side door and along a quiet corridor into a larger room with chairs in small groups. There were four people already in there, two couples that were sitting apart from each other, and Dean averted his eyes from them, not wanting to see the same stress on their faces as he knew was on his own.

“I will make sure someone finds you here when there is news,” the man said.

“What do we do?” Castiel asked.

“There is paperwork I will bring you,” he replied.

Castiel shook his head abruptly. “No, I mean what do we do for Sam?”

The man sighed. “You just have to take care of yourselves right now. Sam is being taken care of by the best possible people.”

At least he didn’t say pray, Dean thought. He didn’t think he could have handled that. 

Mary took the seat in the corner and folded over, putting her face in her hands. Castiel sat beside her and placed his hand on her back. Dean knew it should be him helping her, comforting, but he couldn’t do it. His hands were the ones that had done this to Sam. They had no right being near anyone else he loved.

He sat down, putting two chairs space between himself and them, and rubbed his hands over his face. He expected to feel wetness there, but there was none. He hadn’t cried. He was glad. He didn’t want to even give himself the release of tears. He deserved this pain.

Mary straightened up and Castiel’s hand dropped to his lap. He stared down at his knees for a moment and then said, his voice filled with fury, “This is wrong! I should be able to fix it!”

“It’s not your fault,” Mary said tonelessly. “We needed your grace for the spell.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder to see if any of the other people there had heard what she’d said, but they seemed locked inside their own nightmares, oblivious to the newcomers in the room.  

“Why did you give him so much?” Dean asked, unable to keep the accusation from his tone.

“I wanted him to be as strong as I could possibly make him,” Castiel said. “It was so dangerous what he was attempting. And we needed the connection to the spell to be powerful. I would never have done it if I’d known.”

“He should never have done it at all,” Dean growled. “It killed him.”

“No!” Mary said. “He’s still alive! He’s still fighting.”

“For how long?” Dean asked. “He died in that motel. We were lucky they got him back at all. He almost died in the ER. His heart was going crazy and no blood was getting pumped. That could have killed him, too. He’s bleeding so much inside—“

“Stop, Dean!” Castiel said harshly as Mary covered her face and moaned. “We all know what is happening to him. I know even more than you as I can actually see the damage. I also know Sam though. He has faced worse than this before, and he has survived.”

“With help!” Dean whispered angrily. “It took Gadreel last time he was like this, and you’ve got no grace to save him, even if we did stuff you down his throat. There are no other angels left. You said they’d shut down Heaven again. Even if they hadn’t, how are we supposed to persuade one to do this.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Would you really do that to him again?”

“If it would save his life, hell yes.”

“It almost destroyed everything between you last time, Dean.”

“But he lived,” Dean said defiantly. “I did it last time because I wasn’t ready to lose him. I’m still not ready. I will take him alive and hating me over him dead any day.”   

Mary sucked in a shaky breath. “What are you talking about?”

Dean stared her in the eyes. “You missed a lot, Mom.”

“I know. And I want to know what it is and what you’re planning. Who is Gadreel?”

Dean turned away, unable to answer.

“Gadreel was one of the greatest mistakes we ever made,” Castiel said.

“We?” Dean said. “I don’t remember you in that hospital room, Cas. You and I both know it was down to me.”

“And it would never have happened if I had not let Metatron trick me. I would have been able to save Sam myself.”

“Hospital? Metatron? Tell me what happened!” Mary demanded.

Dean got to his feet. “You tell her, Cas. You can do the story justice.”

“Where are you going?” Mary asked.

“Away,” Dean said. “Call me if there’s any news.”

He strode away from them along the hall, looking for signs to direct him where he needed to go. He spotted one and hurried his pace. He turned a corner and entered the small chapel with chairs in a line facing the altar. He wasn’t alone, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the fact he was heard by the right person.

He sat down and bowed his head, willing the words to be heard by the only person he thought was left on earth to save Sam. “Jo, it’s me, Dean Winchester, and I need your help…”


	5. Chapter 5

The wait seemed to last a lifetime. They sat in almost total silence, only speaking to check the time and wonder what was happening. People joined and left them in the waiting room, and Mary’s anxiety continued to grow before a doctor came to find them. She was wearing a blue surgical scrub cap and a gown around her scrubs.

She looked around and said, “Sam Winchester?”

“Here!” Dean said, jumping to his feet. “He’s my brother. How is he?”

The doctor glanced at Mary and Castiel.

“He’s my son,” Mary said, rising with Castiel. “And this is Cas; he’s family.”

The doctor nodded and said, “I’m Doctor Simons. Shall we sit?”

“We’ve been sitting forever, Doc,” Dean said. “We just need to know what’s going on with Sam. Please.”

“Of course” She clasped her hands in front of her and said, “Sam’s condition is critical. His heart stopped during the surgery and we had trouble getting him back.”

“But he is back?” Castiel asked, his intense blue eyes boring into the doctor.

“He is. But it took a long time and there may be consequences because of it.”

Mary felt her own heart stutter before starting to race. “What consequences?”

“Though we did cardiac massage, Sam’s blood pressure was very low for a long time, even after his heart was beating again. Those kinds of levels mean that not enough oxygen saturated blood reaches the brain. The brain needs oxygen to function, and when it is deprived of it, cells begin to die.”

Mary’s reached out and steadied herself on Castiel’s shoulder. She wanted to pinch herself to wake up. This had to be a dream, a nightmare, because it couldn’t be possible that they were talking about her son like this. He had already been through too much, they all had. Getting Dean back was supposed to be the end of their pain. There wasn’t supposed to be more. Surely there had to be a limit to what they could suffer as a family, to what Sam could go through. Didn’t God have a part of it? Shouldn’t he save them from things like this? Hadn’t he already asked enough of her sons?

“Sam’s got brain damage,” Dean said tonelessly, his face slack.

Mary released Castiel and reached for Dean instead, to comfort and reassure him that she was there, but he stepped away, rejecting her touch.

“That is a strong possibility,” Doctor Simons said. “We do know that he’s not brain dead, so that’s a positive for now. We have recorded him triggering the vent, which he could not do if there was brain stem death. We will need to do further tests to gauge cerebral function, but we can’t do that until he is awake. He is deeply unconscious right now and is going to need a lot of support to sustain him. Our main concern is maintaining his blood pressure and heart rate. We are treating him with medication and fluids for his blood pressure, and there is a portable defibrillator in place in case his heart stops again. It will deliver an instant shock which cancels the delay of waiting for a crash team to reach him. We are also transfusing blood to replace what was lost. I need to ask how he was hurt. The injury is a clear stab wound. In fact, it was an injury that should have killed him almost instantly. He lost a massive amount of blood from a tear in the abdominal mesenteric artery. He should never have survived a bleed as big as that as long as he did, least of all long enough for the healing we saw.”

Dean didn’t seem to have heard the question. He was staring at the doctor, his face a picture in horror. With the trauma and fear of what had happened, Mary had no words or story prepared to explain Sam’s injury.  For a moment there was a tense and expectant silence that no one seemed able to break until Castiel spoke.

“We don’t know what happened,” he said. “We weren’t with him. Sam found his way back to the motel we were staying in and then collapsed.”

The doctor appraised him for a moment, unconvinced, and then said, “We are duty bound to report injuries like this to the police. They will investigate and will need to speak to you.”

“They can wait,” Castiel said firmly.

“I will deter them as long as I can,” Doctor Simons said. “There are other things we need to discuss about Sam’s condition and long-term prognosis, but—”

“Not now,” Dean interrupted, his face animated again and pleading now. “I just want to see my brother.”

“Of course,” she said. “Come with me.”

xXx

Dean followed Doctor Simons into the elevator and waited impatiently as Castiel and Mary joined them. The doctor pressed the button for the fifth floor and they rode up in silence, Dean’s fingers tapping against his leg. When the doors opened, he rushed out and waited for the doctor to lead them. They took a right through double doors and followed a weaving route along halls lined with rooms and offices and through more doors that led onto a new unit.

The difference in this place to the halls they’d passed through was vast. It was busier. There were more staff passing along and grouped at a station halfway along, but it was also quieter, as if noise would harm the people being treated there. There were fewer rooms, too, and they all had windows set into the walls so you could see inside. Dean kept his eyes fixed ahead of him, not wanting to see the other patients and their loved ones, but he guessed from Mary’s gasp that she was looking.

The doctor led them to the station and said, “This is Dean and Mary Winchester, Sam’s family, and Cas?” She said it questioningly, stumbling over the unusual name.

“Castiel,” the angel supplied.

A woman circled the desk and smiled at them. “Hi there. I am Olivia. I am one of Sam’s assigned nurses, so you’ll see a lot of me.”

The doctor took a small card from her pocket and handed it to Mary. “Olivia will take care of you for now, but these are my contact details if you need to talk to me. I will see you again as I’ll be a part of Sam’s team. I will need to speak to you more about Sam’s condition when you feel ready, but take time with Sam for now.”

“Thank you,” Mary said, tucking the card in her back pocket.

“Sam is through here,” Olivia said, gesturing along the hall as Doctor Simons walked back along the hall. “I’m afraid visiting is limited to two at a time on the ICU.”

Castiel stepped back and said, “I will wait here.”

Mary shot him a grateful smile.

“You can wait in the family room if you like,” Olivia said, pointing down the hall to a wooden door.

“Thank you,” Castiel said. He touched Mary’s arm then reached a hand toward Dean and dropped it again, before walking along the hall and through the indicated door.

“With two visitors, we operate an open visiting policy,” she said. “So you can be with Sam as long as you want, but you will need to leave the room for procedures and Sam’s personal care needs.”

“But we can stay with him the rest of the time,” Mary said hopefully.

“You can. Studies have shown that patients respond better to familiar voices around them. External stimulus is important.”

“He’ll be able to hear us?” Dean asked.

Olivia answered cautiously. “There is no proof that _everyone_ can hear what’s happening around them. Some people wake with no memory of their time of unconsciousness at all, but others do remember loved ones talking to them and say how it helped them. We treat every patient as if they can hear, and we encourage visitors to do the same.”

Mary nodded eagerly. “We will.”

Dean thought she was clinging to the same hope that he was. There was nothing they could do for Sam apart from be with him. The care he needed had to come from professionals. If there was a chance that they could help in any way at all, they would do it. Dean was used to being the one that could fix things for Sam. If he was hurt, he stitched him up and took care of it. If something worse happened, he would deal to make it right, be it with a demon, Death, or an angel. He would fight for him. This wasn’t something he could fight—that was down to Sam this time—and he felt his helplessness like a physical thing.

“Come with me,” Olivia said, walking along the hall and stopping outside and pumping alcohol gel onto her hand from a pump on the wall. Mary and Dean did the same and rubbed it into their skin. “You’ll need to do this every time you come into the room,” she said. “Sam is at high risk of infection, and we want to do everything we can to prevent that. You will also need to take extra care washing your hands when you go to the bathroom. We have posters on the walls of the restrooms. It may seem obvious, but follow the instructions carefully.”

Dean nodded curtly.

She pushed open the door, and Dean and Mary followed her in then hesitated as she stopped just inside and said, “It’s going to look scary to see Sam like this but remember everything in here is helping him.”

Dean drew a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for what he might see. As he entered, he saw that there was no preparing yourself for something like this. It was worse even than when Sam had been in the hospital after the trials as there was so much more equipment this time.

Mary rushed to the bed, but Dean stopped just inside and took in the scene. Sam was covered to the waist with a sheet, but Dean could see the white dressing that covered the surgical site peeking above it and the wealth of equipment. There was a tube fed into Sam’s mouth that was held in place by a plastic mask over his face and on his chest were large electrodes that attached to the boxy machine like the one the EMT’s had used to start Sam’s heart again. There was an IV in the back of his right hand that attached to a bag of clear fluid hanging on a pole beside the bed and a thicker tube that led into a dressing on his collar bone and another in the soft skin of his wrist. They were attached to a bag of blood and another of fluids. The room was loud. The ventilator hissed and clicked and the heart monitor beeped faster than Dean knew it should.

Mary drew a shaky breath and whispered, “All this.”

“It’s all helping him,” Olivia reminded her.

“But he needs so much,” Mary said.

Olivia clearly had no answer to give as she said, “Let me tell you a little about it.” She gestured to one of the tubes and said, “This is a central line. It’s delivering the transfusion and nutrition to Sam. This is the arterial line that gives us an instant and accurate blood pressure reading. That is being monitored closely here”—she pointed at the monitor—”as Sam has struggled to maintain that at a good level.”

“We know,” Dean said darkly. It was that which had caused the damage they were most worried about—the damage to Sam’s brain.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” Olivia asked.

“Can we touch him?” Mary asked.

“Yes, but be mindful of the equipment and tubes.”

Mary thanked her and rushed to Sam’s side and kissed his forehead, the only place she could without risking disturbing the tubes. “Hello, love,” she said gently.

Dean remembered her calling him that as a child, and Sam as a baby. It was a comforting memory of childhood that he wished Sam was awake for, having no memory of hearing it himself.

When she had tucked them in bed, she had called them love and told them angels were watching over him. Dean had always liked that when he was young, it had comforted him and made him feel safe. It was an angel he needed now, one that wasn’t powered down like Castiel, but despite his desperate prayers, there was no sign of Jo coming to help.

“I’ll leave you,” Olivia said. “I will be close if you have questions or concerns, and I will be in periodically to check on Sam and treat as necessary.”

“Thanks,” Dean said vaguely, stepping a little deeper into the room so that she could pass him.

As the door closed, Mary pulled a chair close to Sam’s bed and sat down. She picked up his hand and stroked it with her thumb, seeming lost in him. She didn’t seem to notice that Dean hadn’t joined her at Sam’s bedside for a full two minutes before she looked up and said, “Dean?”

Dean shook his head. He knew what she wanted and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be any closer to Sam than he already was. He had done this to him, he’d let Sam down, and he had no right to be near him now.

Sam had believed Dean would protect him from Michael, and he’d been wrong. Dean’s hands had wielded the blade that had stabbed Sam, and Dean hadn’t done a thing to stop it. He hadn’t even known it was happening, but that was no excuse. He should have known. If he had been stronger, like Sam was with Lucifer, he would have been able to fight free of what Michael did to him and take control.

Mary stood and came to him, wrapping her arms around him and cradling the back of his head in her hand. He stood stiffly, letting her hold him but not returning the embrace. After a moment, she pulled back and cupped his cheeks in her hands. “Let it go, Dean.”

“I did this,” Dean said, his voice breaking.

“No! You didn’t. You were as much a victim as Sam. There was nothing you could have done.”

“I should have stopped him.”

“How?” she asked. “You weren’t in control, were you?”

“No!” Dean said, stricken by the question, that she might be doubting him and his story. “I couldn’t even see what Michael was doing. But if I hadn’t been so weak…”

Mary dropped her hands to his shoulders and shook them, staring into his eyes. “You are not weak. You are a strong, brave, incredible man. Lay the blame where it belongs. Who did this?”

“Me.”

She shook him again. “Michael did it! I want you to say it. Who did this, Dean?”

“Michael.” Dean choked on the word, forcing it from himself, but as he did, he felt the truth of it. He had not been in control. He’d been drowning. Michael had made them both victims. “Michael!” he growled. “He did it.”

“Yes, he did.”

Dean’s face twisted with pain again. “But look at what he did, Mom! Sam is so… And he might be…”

“Stop! Not here. Sam doesn’t need to hear it. He’s listening to us, I am sure, and all he needs to hear is how much we love him and how we’re waiting for him. Nothing else matters right now.”

Dean nodded. He remembered how it felt to him to be in that hospital after the car wreck, watching Sam standing by his bedside and hearing the things the doctor had said about him. He had been a phantom of himself, fighting to connect with Sam, to make him know he was still there. If that was Sam now, if he was hearing or even watching them, he needed to know they had faith in him to get through it.

“Come on,” she said, tugging him towards the bed. “You can’t distance yourself from him, not now.”

Dean allowed her to guide him into the chair she’d vacated and he stared at Sam a moment and then said, “I’m here, Sammy, me and Mom, and Cas is close. We’re waiting for you.” He forced a smile that made its way into his voice. “We’re waiting so you better not take too long. We’ve got things to do. And you know how much I hate hospitals.”

Mary smiled at him and pulled a chair up on the other side of the bed then sat and picked up Sam’s hand. “You know how impatient your brother is, Sam. You better listen.”

“I don’t mind if you sleep long enough for me to get rid of that ridiculous beard though. Seriously, Sammy, what were you thinking?” Though Dean’s words were light, he was playing a part. The weight of his pain and horror was still heavy on his chest.

“Don’t listen to him,” Mary said, her smile wide though her eyes were wet. “It makes you look handsome.”

“Sure it does,” Dean said sarcastically. “I’ll cut you a deal though, Sammy. You wake your ass up and get out of here fast and I’ll let you keep it. Do that for me okay?” His voice broke. “Please.”

The act failing, Dean wiped at his face and fell silent. He couldn’t say anything else without betraying how he felt.

Mary smiled sadly and leaned over the bed to stroke Sam’s cheek. “Do it for us, Sam. Do it when you can. However long it takes, we’re going to be here waiting.”

However long it took…

Perhaps it was better not to give Sam deadlines. He could already be fighting as hard as he could to give them as much as he had. Maybe asking for more would frustrate him, make his silent fight feel like a failure. It was best not to push.

He told himself it would get better, Sam would find more strength, but knowing brain damage was a possibility made it hard to keep his composure.

This could be their future.


	6. Chapter 6

**_ Chapter Six _ **

They had been with Sam for almost an hour, interrupted only when Olivia and her colleagues came in to check on Sam and attend to him. They’d been able to stay in the room at those times, which made Dean feel a little better. He wanted to be close to Sam, as if his presence really could help.

They spoke to him and each other, keeping the topics light and comforting for him. Dean told Mary some of the happier stories of their lives before she was brought back, prank wars and hunts that ended well, and Mary spoke about the times she’d had with them before her death, her memories of Dean as a child and Sam as a baby. Dean liked to listen as there were scant memories for him of those times, and sometimes what she said triggered a memory for him that he’d thought was lost.

Mary was telling him about his second Christmas and how John had gone overboard in the toy store but Dean had been content to play with the box his toy car come in rather than the expensive model that was the intended gift when the door opened and Olivia wheeled in a machine on a cart and introduced the man with her as Doctor Matterson, a neurologist.

“I am going to be testing Sam’s brain function,” he explained, wheeling the cart to Sam’s bedside and unspooling a mess of wires.

“Can we stay?” Mary asked.

“You can, but we will need space.”

Mary and Dean got to their feet and moved their chairs back to the wall and then stood at the end of the bed, out of the way.

Doctor Matterson and Olivia began to smear the small pads with some clear jelly and then attach them to Sam’s scalp. When they were done, they plugged the wires into the machine and the doctor pressed a button that bought it humming to life. He adjusted some of the pads on Sam’s scalp and then pressed another button and the small screen filled with wavy lines that moved up and down.

Dean had no idea what he was looking for, but he thought that the fact there was movement at all had to be a good thing. He studied it and then looked to the doctor’s face, searching for a clue about what he was seeing. His expression was neutral though, and Dean could get nothing from him.

“Diffuse theta and delta,” the doctor said, his brow creased.

Dean wanted to know what that meant, but he didn’t ask as he was aware it might be bad news and he didn’t want Sam to hear it.

Mary’s hand slipped into his and he squeezed it, feeling the comfort of her touch. They stood watching in silence until the doctor pressed a button, reducing the sound to a low hum and the screen darkened. He took the paper readout that had been printed as the test ran and folded it.

“I need to get a second opinion on this,” he said. “I will come back when I have an assessment ready for you.”

“Thank you,” Mary said as he swept from the room.

Mary pulled her chair around to the other side of the bed and sat down, and Dean stood behind her, hands on her shoulders as Olivia removed the pads and packed up the machine.

“He’s really good,” she said.

Dean frowned. “Sam?”

She smiled. “I’m sure Sam is, too, but I meant Doctor Matterson. You couldn’t have a better neurologist on Sam’s case.”

“Thank you,” Mary said, picking up Sam’s hand and tracing her finger across the lines on his palm.

Olivia wheeled out the machine and Dean took his seat on Sam’s other side.

“That crap is in his hair,” he said, eyeing Sam. “He’ll hate that.”

“I’ll ask if we can clean him up when Olivia is back,” Mary said. “Maybe wet wipes or something…” She trailed off and returned her attention to Sam.

He imagined Sam poking at his hair now, complaining about the gel that was making it look dirty and how gross it was. Dean would be teasing him, telling him to go get himself a conditioning treatment and facial while he was at it. Sam would be rolling his eyes and grumbling about idiot brothers. It would be a perfect, normal moment for them, and Dean would enjoy every second of it. He wanted that moment so much. He needed Sam to be okay so they could have those moments again.

“He’s going to be okay,” Mary said suddenly, her intense gaze on Sam.

“I know, Mom. He always is.”

That was true. Sam was a fighter; he’d spent almost his whole life fighting something. This was just another monster to beat. What made it so hard for Dean was that it was a monster Dean couldn’t fight for him. All he could do was encourage Sam and be there for him when he needed it. Sam was sleeping now, maybe hearing them, maybe not, and Dean felt useless. He needed to do more.

After a long wait, the door opened again and Doctor Matterson came in. “I have consulted my colleague and I have some information to go over with you,” he said.

Mary jumped to her feet. “Can we do it somewhere else? We don’t want Sam hearing it.”

The doctor’s lips pressed into a thin line that made Dean’s hands sweat. “Of course. I understand your brother, Castiel, is in the family room. Would you like to go there?”

Dean nodded and got to his feet. He patted Sam’s arm and said, “We’ll be right back, Sammy,” and Mary leaned over and kissed Sam’s forehead.

They trailed out of the room, both casting Sam another searching look as they left, and then followed the doctor along the hall to the family room. As they entered, Castiel’s head snapped up and he rose to his feet.

“What’s happening?” he asked, his eyes moving between Mary and Dean.

“We’ve got some results coming,” Dean said.

“Would you like me to go?” he asked.

“No,” Dean said. “This is about you as much as it is us.”

Castiel sat down, looking relieved, and Mary and Dean took seats either side of him.

The doctor sat opposite and said, “The test didn’t reveal all we were hoping for. When Sam was admitted to the unit, he was triggering the vent on occasion, trying to breathe for himself, but that has stopped now.”

Dean’s heart lurched. “That’s bad, right?”

Doctor Matterson leaned forward and said quickly, as if it would soften the blow of what they were hearing, “Sam’s brain activity is abnormal. He is not brain dead, there are patterns that would not be there if there had been brain stem death, but there are signs of future difficulties.”

Dean looked down at his lap and willed the tears away from his burning eyes. He didn’t want to cry; he didn’t want to make it harder for his mother, and he thought if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, getting a handle on himself and then looked up at the doctor and said. “What kinds of difficulties?”

“We can be sure of nothing until Sam is awake,” Doctor Matterson said.

“Yeah, but what are the possibilities?” he asked.

“Is he going to wake up?” Castiel asked.

Mary gasped, and Dean wished Castiel hadn’t asked. He was sure Mary knew that it was a possibility that Sam wouldn’t wake up at all, she knew enough about the world to know that, but he would have shielded her from the question and whatever answer came if he could.

“We can never make guarantees in these situations,” the doctor said. “We can only be hopeful.”

“If he does wake up,” Mary said quietly, “What are these difficulties?”

“He _is_ waking up,” Dean said, more as a reassurance to his mother and Castiel than because he was confident.

“Long term impairments could be physical and or mental. Cognitive changes include difficulty processing information and understanding others. Impaired ability to make decisions. Behavioral changes, irritably, impatience, difficulties retaining or retrieving memories, possibly aggression. His emotional reactions can be altered to what he was before. Physically, headaches are common, as are seizures. There can be partial paralysis or complete. He could—”

“Stop!” Mary said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t hear anymore.”

The doctor paused and then said, “None of these are guarantees. He could suffer none of these consequences as a result of his injury.”

“Or he could suffer them all,” Castiel said, and Mary winced.

“It’s possible,” Doctor Matterson agreed. “That would be a more extreme case than I have seen in my career. It’s more likely that it will be a combination of some of them.”

Dean wiped at his face, smearing the tears that had slipped past his control. If Sam woke up, and they didn’t know if he would, he was probably going to be changed forever because of this. Almost all of these things prohibited hunting anymore. His whole life would different. He would be stuck in the bunker, unable to save anyone ever again. That would destroy him if he was aware enough of what it meant, but he might not be aware at all. He could lose the memories of what he’d had before. Dean could be dealing with a completely new version of his brother.

His stomach rolled with nausea and there was a ringing in his ears. He wanted to run, to get away from this man and this situation, but he couldn’t. Mary needed him; Castiel needed him. More importantly, Sam needed him. He had to get through this and stay for them all.

There was a beeping sound and the doctor checked his pager. “I’m needed elsewhere,” he said. “If you would excuse me.” He got to his feet and left the room before any of them had formed a response.

Mary hid her face in her hands and began to sob. Castiel placed a hand on her back and Dean stared across the room, knowing it should be him comforting his mother, but knowing he would break if he tried.

xXx

Castiel had never felt more useless in his life. People he loved were hurting, he was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He barely had any grace at all, none to help Sam. He could feel what was there, a faint flicker in his chest, and he cursed it for not being more.

He had given Sam as much as he had when he’d gone to face Michael because he loved him and wanted him to be as safe as he could, but perhaps it had been a mistake. Perhaps a better course of action would have been for him to handcuff Sam to the table and hold him there until they had another way to save Dean from the archangel. Perhaps there would have been a way eventually.

They’d needed Dean back though, and Sam had been so focused, consumed with it, that Castiel had let himself believe it would work, that they would both be okay. The fact that it was only his grace that had kept Sam alive at all had seemed to matter little when the doctor was listing the damage that could have been done to him.

The only sound in the room was Mary’s letting of pain for a long time until Dean cleared his throat roughly and said, “I prayed to Jo.”

Castiel’s eyes snapped to him over his mother’s back. “Yes!”

“She hasn’t answered,” Dean said. “But she might.”

“Do you think so?” Mary asked, straightening up.

“I hope so,” Dean said. “I don’t know what else to try. Chuck disappeared with Amara, and he’s not answered prayers since. I tried him, too, but…” He shrugged. “I don’t see him showing up.”

“What about you, Castiel?” Mary asked. “I know you don’t have you grace now, but when it comes back, can you help him?”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I will try, of course, but…”

But he wasn’t sure Sam would last long enough for his grace to return. The doctor hadn’t said it, but Castiel had seen the life leave Sam in that motel room and he’d heard the doctor say they’d almost lost him in surgery, too. He couldn’t save anyone from death now. All he could do was try to heal. Perhaps try and fail.

“But I don’t know how long it will take,” he finished carefully.

Mary sagged again, her shoulders slumping and her head bowing, but Dean seemed energized.

“You can see what the damage is though, right?” he asked. “You could look at him and see what we’re looking at. Maybe it’s not as bad as they think it could be. Sammy might just need to wake up now. He could be fine. They have to be careful about what they say so people don’t sue. He might just be covering his back.”

Castiel could see Dean’s need for him to agree, to comfort him, and he forced himself to nod and say, “He could be. I will go to Sam and see if I can sense anything new from him.”

He patted Mary’s back once more and then stood and left the room. He walked down the busy but quiet hall to Sam’s room. He stopped at the door and took a breath and reached for the handle.

“Use the gel,” a woman’s voice called to him.

Castiel turned and saw Olivia, the nurse that had greeted them before. “Sorry?”

“If you’re going in to see Sam, you need to use the alcohol gel first,” she said.

Castiel saw the bottle on the wall and pumped the gel into his hands and then smeared it over them. Olivia gave him an approving nod and he braced himself before entering Sam’s room for the first time.

The scene inside froze him in his tracks. There was so much machinery around Sam, machines that beeped and clicked, and there were tubes all over him. It was so wrong to see Sam, a virile and active man, like this.

He had stayed away before so Dean and Mary could be with Sam, but now he saw what they had been surrounded by when they were with him, he realized he’d been the lucky one.

Castiel tried to look past what was around him to see his friend, taking in the pallor of his skin and the dressing on his stomach. Even without looking through the eyes of his grace, Castiel could see just how desperately ill Sam was. Each of these machines and tubes played a part in keeping him living. Without them, Sam would die.

Cold, medical technology had taken Castiel’s place. He should be able to keep Sam alive; he should be able to save him. That was what he did. He was the Winchesters’ protector. It was his job, his purpose. He was failing.

He moved closer to the bed and greeted Sam softly. He wasn’t expecting a response from Sam, but his almost absolute stillness in the busy room made him swallow hard. Although he had seen horrible carnage of countless battlefields, seeing his friend like this made him want to run, to flee the sight. He couldn’t though; he had a job to do.

He laid a hand on Sam’s chest, between the two black pads that were gelled to his skin, and he allowed his remaining grace to flow through his eyes, to let him see Sam properly. What he saw there made him catch his breath.

The damage to Sam’s stomach was raw and inflamed, and that was upsetting, but what was so much worse was what lay in Sam’s head. There were shadowed patches of death where Sam had lived so strongly before. Worse than that even, was the loss of Sam’s self. He could barely sense him at all. It was as if this body was an empty vessel. Sam had almost left it completely. He didn’t know exactly what awaited Sam when he woke, _if_ he woke, but he would never be the man Castiel knew and loved again.

Castiel’s hand fell back to his side and he staggered away from the bed, his breaths coming fast. As hard as this was for him to see and feel, he knew there was worse coming. He would have to tell Dean and Mary what had happened, to see their pain.

“Oh, Sam,” he moaned. “What have we done?”

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, trying to prepare himself for what he was going to have to do. He was going to take something from Mary and Dean that was going to change them forever. They might never recover from this.

Or, he realized, he could make another choice, refuse to destroy their hope and give them something to cling to.

He knew nothing for sure, and he had seen Sam and Dean do incredible things. It was possible Sam would do something else incredible here. Perhaps the grace that was in him would heal. It might just need time.

His breaths came easier now, filling his chest and feeding his hopeful mind. He couldn’t tell them what he didn’t know for sure, that would be weak and cruel. The right thing to do was to wait and watch what happened.

Perhaps he could save Sam if the grace that was already there didn’t. There was no need to hurt them for nothing. That would be cruel. He would let them keep their hope and tell them only what he knew, which was very little.

Bolstered, he left Sam’s room surprised to see that they were standing just outside the door.

“Well?” Dean asked. “What did you see?”

“Sam is very ill,” Castiel said, only confirming what they already knew. “But I am hopeful.” That was true, too. He was hopeful Sam would beat the odds and that he would be able to do something for himself.

“Do you think you can heal him when your grace is back?” Mary whispered so as not to be overheard by the nurses passing them.

“I am not sure I will need to,” he said. “There is still grace there. It could heal Sam if given enough time. I will try to help him if he needs it when my grace has replenished.”

He was careful to make no promises, to not lie to them, and it seemed to work. Mary brightened and Dean sighed with relief. “Thanks, Cas,” he said. “Really, man, we needed this.”

Castiel knew that; it was why he had chosen his words so carefully. They were going to need their hope to get through what was coming, Sam’s current condition, and he had helped with that.

He wasn’t lying to them, betraying them, he was fulfilling his chosen purpose.

He was protecting the Winchesters.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was standing outside Bobby’s house in darkness, staring out at the shadowy sea of junked cars. He was aware that he was waiting for something, but he couldn’t remember what, and he couldn’t think clearly enough to work it out. He was so tired.

He heard footsteps on gravel and he realized they, whoever it was he was waiting for, had arrived. Feeling no fear, only urgency, he walked towards them. He went carefully at first, cautious in the darkness, then light began to bleed into the sky as the sun rose, and he hurried, calling out now, “Hey, who’s there?”

The footsteps stopped and Dean rounded a car and saw Sam standing with his back to him.  

“Sammy,” he said, sighing with relief. “What are you doing?”

Sam started walking away. Dean hurried after him and grabbed his arm. Sam didn’t pull away, and when Dean turned him, he allowed himself to be moved. Dean dropped his arm and stepped back when he saw Sam’s face, wishing he hadn’t looked. Sam was deathly pale, not the pallor of sickness but the pallor of death. His eyes were open, though, and they looked into Dean’s.

“Sammy?” Dean said weakly. “What happened.”

Sam brought his hands to his stomach and pressed against. Dean didn’t understand why at first, and then blood began to seep through his fingers.

“No!” Dean gasped, adding his own hands to Sam’s in an attempt to keep the life-giving blood inside him. “Hold on, Sammy.”

“I can’t,” Sam said tonelessly.

The blood disappeared and Sam’s hands moved from under Dean’s to hang heavily at his sides.

Dean stared at the place from which the blood had flowed but it was clear now. His hands were pressed against the clean cloth of Sam’s shirt. He removed them and moved back, away from his brother.

“What can I do?” he asked. “How can I fix this?”

Sam’s colorless lips curled into a small smile. “Don’t you see, you can’t? I’m already dead, Dean.”

“No! You’re not. You have to fight.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s too late. I’m gone. You just don’t know it yet. You will.”

He began to back away, and Dean reached for him, knowing that if he could just hold him, he’d be able to save him, but Sam was out of reach and Dean’s boots were welded to the ground. All he could do was shout after his brother, begging him to come back.

Sam stopped, almost out of sight, and spoke. Despite the distance, Dean could hear him as clearly as if he’d whispered in his ear. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean cried out, his breaths coming in harsh pants and his heart on fire, and then he felt himself falling through the air, down into the ground, and he knew where he would stop. He would be in hell again, on the rack, and Alastair would be the one holding the razor.

He landed hard and his eyes flew open. He was on a carpeted floor, his back aching from the collision and his hands grabbing at the empty air. Looking around, he realized he was on the floor of the family room; he had rolled off of the couch he’d been sleeping on. He hadn’t wanted to leave Sam to sleep, but Mary had persuaded him that he needed to take care of himself if he was going to be able to help Sam. Dean had switched places with Castiel so that he would be with Sam and Mary, and he’d instructed them to wake him in three hours. It was three hours too long. The nightmare had found him.

He scrambled to his feet and yanked open the door, still trying to catch his breath. He rushed along the hall, almost running, and saw his mother and Castiel standing outside Sam’s room. His heart increasing its desperate pace, he hurried to them and looked through the window set into the wall. He couldn’t see Sam though; he could only see the slats of the closed blinds.

His breaths coming in panicked pants, he asked, “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

“They’re tending to Sam,” Castiel said. “We had to leave the room.”

“Has something changed?”

Mary nodded, her face pale and drawn. “He has a fever.”

Dean felt a surge of anger. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“What could you have done?” Mary asked. “We can’t even be with him right now.”

“I should have known,” Dean growled. “I want to know if _anything_ changes as soon as it happens now.”

“Of course,” Castiel said. “We will make sure you know.”

Dean accepted his assurance and said, “What are they doing with him?”

“We’re not sure,” Castiel answered. “They took a cart of equipment in ten minutes ago, and they haven’t come out since.”

As if Castiel’s words had summoned him, the door opened and the doctor on the night shift, Doctor Elias, came out, his expression solemn. “Ah, hello, Dean.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked.

“We believe Sam has an infection in his surgical site,” he said. “He is running a high fever and there is swelling on the abdomen. We’re treating it aggressively with antibiotics and we’re going to take him for an MRI.”

“Is that safe?” Dean asked. “He looks too sick to be moved. And what about all the equipment? He needs it.”

“It is possible to scan a patient on life support, but it’s more difficult than with a self-sustaining patient. It’s the best approach for Sam’s situation, though. He will be monitored by a doctor at all times, and there will be a team on hand for any complications.”

“Complications like his heart stopping,” Mary said, then pressed a hand to her mouth as if wishing to recall the words.

The doctor considered her for a moment then said, “Yes.”

Mary bowed her head and Dean placed a hand on her back. “What do we do?” he asked.

“If you could wait in the family room, we will tell you when he’s back on the unit. We need space to move him, and it can be upsetting for family members to see it happening.

Dean wanted to stay, to be close to Sam for as long as possible, to remind him that he was there and that Sam was strong, but he didn’t think Mary could handle seeing Sam wheeled away, so he said, “Okay, we’ll wait. Come on, Mom.”

He slipped his hand into hers and led her back to the family room. Castiel went ahead of them and opened the door. When they got inside, Dean guided Mary onto a chair and he sat on the arm. She leaned against him and sighed out a slow breath.  

“He’s going to be okay,” Dean said. “He can handle this.”

“I know,” Mary said. “He’ll be fine.”

Dean could tell she didn’t believe his reassurances any more than he had saying them. Neither of them knew if Sam would be okay. The only hope they had was that Castiel would be able to help when his grace had replenished or that Jo would answer his prayer. But telling themselves that he would be okay was a talisman against the alternative. If they said it often enough and loud enough, perhaps it would be true.

All they had was hope.

xXx

When the door to the family room eased open and Doctor Elias came in and perched on the couch opposite them, Dean knew it was bad news. Though his face was carefully neutral, his eyes told the truth.

Dean swallowed hard. “Is he…” He couldn’t finish the question, but he didn’t need to. The doctor knew what he was asking.

“We were able to get him back,” he said.

Mary’s hands fisted against above her heart. “He crashed again!” 

“During the MRI, Sam went into V-fib and we had to shock him into rhythm again. We got him back.”

Dean closed his eyes and tried to find a calm center to focus on so that he didn’t lose control. He felt like he was drowning under the news that kept piling on them. It was worse than drowning in the water Michael had cast him into had been.

The doctor went on and Dean forced himself to listen without betraying his feelings on his face. “We were able to complete the scan and we have ascertained the problem. An abscess has formed around the surgical site that will require surgery.” 

“Is he in surgery now?” Mary asked.

“No, not yet. It’s not a simple choice to make for Sam. His condition is critical and we’re not sure he will be able to handle the anesthetic and trauma of a second surgery so soon.”

Dean pulled back, away from his words, and made a conscious effort to keep breathing steadily, knowing he needed to hide his own fear for his mother’s sake. 

“What do we do then?” Castiel asked.

“That is a choice you need to make,” he said. “Dean, you are listed as Sam’s next-of-kin, so we need your consent for the surgery.”

“But the surgery could kill him,” Mary said.

“It could,” the doctor agreed. “But so could the infection. It’s not a decision we can make for you.”

“What would you do if it was someone you cared about?” Dean asked.

“I cannot tell you that. I can only give you the facts. If the abscess ruptures, Sam’s blood will be flooded with poison. He will become septic, and that would kill even a healthy person. His blood pressure is still very low, though. And the anesthetic is going to have an impact on that, too.”

“His blood pressure is what did the damage before,” Castiel said. “It stops his brain getting oxygen,”

“It does.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “Both plans of action, surgery and antibiotic therapy, both come with the same risk. Either could kill him. You need to make the choice yourself.”

“Can we think about it? Do we have time?” Dean asked.

The doctor’s eyes were sad as he said, “You have as long as Sam can give you. None of us know how long that is.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “We’ll think about it.”

Doctor Elias got to his feet again. “Tell a nurse when you’ve made your decision and they will contact me. I will prepare the paper needed for consent so we don’t have to delay if you do choose surgery.”

He slipped out of the room and Mary stood to follow. She looked down at Dean who hadn’t moved and said, “Are you coming?”

“In a minute,” Dean said. “I just need to think.”

Mary nodded understandingly and patted his arm before getting to her feet and leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the room.

Castiel eyed him suspiciously for a moment and said, “You’re not planning to do anything stupid, are you, Dean?”

“Like what?”

“Like a demon deal.”

Dean shook his head. “No demon is going to deal with me, Cas. That’s off the table.”

“It should be off the table no matter what! Sam would _never_ want you to do that again.”

“I know,” Dean sighed.

There was so much he didn’t know anymore, but he was sure of that. Sam would rather die than let Dean go to hell again. Dean would rather go to hell than let Sam die. But that wasn’t an option this time. There was no demon that would deal with him now that Crowley was dead. They would want to see Sam dead and Dean suffering. Dean had to find another way.

“Just give me a minute, Cas,” he said.

Castiel got slowly to his feet and left Dean sitting alone in the room.

He waited until the door had clicked closed behind him and then clasped his hands in his lap and closed his eyes. “Chuck, if you’re listening, I need you. Sam’s even worse now, and I’m not sure he’s going to make it. You owe us. You owe _him_. Please, help me.” He opened his eyes and looked around. He was still completely alone. He bowed his head and closed his eyes again. “Jo, I will do _anything_ for you if you do this for me. Help Sam and we’ll give you whatever you want.” Feeling no presence in the room, his heart sinking he sent up his last, desperate, prayer. “Amara, are you there? I need you.”

“Dean?”

His eyes snapped open, and he looked up hopefully. It wasn’t Amara in front of him but Jessica, the reaper. His hope collapsed and he jumped to his feet. “No! Not you!”

“It’s not what you think,” she said.  

“You’re not taking him,” Dean growled. “I’ll kill you if you go near him.”

She raised her hands and held them out, palm up. “Calm down. I am not here to reap. I am here to help you _and_ Sam. Billie sent me.”

Dean barely heard her reassurances; only Billie’s name penetrated his mind. “No!” he said again. “I don’t care what’s written in those damn books, Sam does not die like this. Not yet. He is _not_ dying now.”

“That choice is yours,” she said.

Dean sucked in a breath as her words finally registered. “Mine? What do I have to do?”

“Sit down and listen to me.”

Dean dropped down into Mary’s vacated chair and took a breath. “I’m listening. Tell me.”

She perched on the couch and folded her hands in her lap. “I can take Sam if that’s what you choose— “

“I will _never_ choose that.” 

“Or I can help him,” she went on. “It requires your permission though.”

“You have it,” Dean said without hesitation. “Whatever it takes. Just save him.”

She rolled her eyes. “She knew you would say that and she told me to warn you: do not forsake the world for one man, no matter how much you love him. Sam would not want that.”

“I don’t care what Sam wants,” Dean lied. He did care, but he prioritized Sam’s life higher than his wants.

“She knew you would say that, too. It will not take the world, though. Billie would never allow that.”

“Then what does she want?”

“Sam alive,” she said. “He has a role to play, and for that, he needs to be alive. We can’t make guarantees. Billie only controls life and death, not the future, but I am here to give you and Sam a chance. We can save his life, you can, but it means you have to do something.” Dean opened his mouth to speak and she spoke over him. “Listen before you decide.”

“Okay,” Dean said, willing himself to calm as hope surged through him. “I’m listening.”

“We can tie Sam to you. He will live as long as you do, but it only lasts as long as your life does. You will sustain his life force. But we cannot control the rest. Sam’s life could be saved when death is preferable.”

Dean glowered at her. “Death is never preferable.”

“No? What if the damage is so great that Sam never truly lives again? He could spend the rest of your shared life on those machines. He could wake up and never know you again, trapped inside his own body until you finally perish and he dies, too. We can’t do anything for that.”

Dean shook his head. “No, he just needs to stay alive long enough for Cas to heal him.”

“Did Castiel promise that? Can he make guarantees?”

Dean bit down hard on his tongue, refusing to answer the questions.

She nodded. “I thought so. We cannot cure him. All I can do, all _Billie_ can do, is keep Sam alive. You have to decide if the risk of keeping him but losing him as he was is worth it.”

“It is,” Dean said without hesitation. “If I can just keep him alive, if they can do this surgery, I’ll have the rest of my life to fix the rest. And I will find a way. I always do.”

She stared into his eyes and asked, “Is that your final decision? You want me to do it, even knowing the risk? Once done it cannot be undone.”

“There is no risk,” Dean said. “I’m fixing him.”

“Okay.” She patted her knees and got to her feet. “You will need to come with me.”

Dean lurched to his feet and rushed ahead of her out of the door. He came to a skidding stop halfway along the hall as he recognized the wrongness of the place. No one was moving. At the nurse’s station, Doctor Elias was frozen with his hand reaching into his pocket for a pen. A nurse was pushing open the door of one of the rooms, her hand frozen to the wood. They were all like that, stopped perfectly midway between actions. The hall was silent.

“What have you done?” he asked.

Jessica walked to his side and said, “I don’t want witnesses to this.”

Dean nodded eagerly, “Yeah. Sure. He’s in here.” He jogged along the hall to Sam’s room and went in, holding the door open for Jessica who came at a steadier pace.

Sam had changed again since Dean had last seen him. There were icepacks around him now, only his groin covered by a sheet. His skin was flushed with fever, and Dean could see the swelling around the dressing on his stomach. Mary was sitting beside the bed, holding Sam’s hand with her eyes fixed on his face. When Dean said her name, she looked up as if coming out of a dream. Dean wondered for a moment why Jessica hadn’t frozen her, too, and then dismissed it as unimportant.

“Dean, what’s going on?” she asked. “Who’s this?”

“My name is Jessica and I am here to help.”

“Where’s Cas?” Dean asked.

“He went to get coffee for us,” Mary said then addressed Jessica. “Jessica… I know that name.” She gasped. “You’re the reaper Sam told me about, the one that was following them?”

“I am,” Jessica said.

Mary blanched. “Are you here for Sam? You can’t have him!”

“I am here to help,” Jessica said. “Are you ready, Dean?”

“Yes. What do I have to do?”

“Form a connection with Sam. Just touching him is enough.”

Dean walked around the bed and placed his hand on Sam’s chest.

“Stop!” Mary commanded. “What’s going on? What are you doing to him?”

“She’s saving Sam,” Dean said quickly. “Just do it. He’s already fighting hard, and…” And he didn’t want Sam to slip away before Jessica could do this.

Jessica walked to Dean and placed her hand beside his on Sam’s chest and then the other on Dean’s, right over his heart. Dean took a breath and tried to prepare himself for whatever was going to happen, expecting pain, but all he felt was a drawing sensation, as if something was being pulled from him. He saw a light moving down Jessica’s arm, across her chest and down the other into Sam. The drawing was replaced with a warmth that grew until it was almost too hot to bear, and then Jessica dropped her hand and said, “It’s done.”

As the heat in his chest faded, Dean was swept with lethargy that made his head swim, and he gripped the side of Sam’s bed for support.

“You will need to rest,” Jessica said. “It’s going to take a lot of energy to sustain this while Sam is still ill.”

Dean nodded and rubbed a hand over his face. “Thank you. And thank Billie.”

“I will,” she said. “And I wish you luck. I truly do hope you get what you want for Sam.”

She looked between Sam and Dean and then disappeared.

“What just happened?” Mary asked.

The door flew open and Castiel rushed in. “What happened? I felt something, and then everyone froze.” His eyes moved between Sam and Dean who was sagging against the bed and his mouth dropped open. “What did you do?”

Dean drew in a long breath and pushed away from the bed. “Nothing bad. I fixed it. Sammy’s going to be fine. I’ve got to get the doctor.”

“What did you do?” Castiel asked again, his voice rising.

“I saved him,” Dean said. “They can do the operation now.” He stopped at the door and his eyes fell on Sam’s flushed face. “He’s going to be okay now. He’s going to be fine.”

He believed it. Sam would live now, and they could take care of the rest after. It was all going to work out.


	8. Chapter 8

**_ Chapter Eight _ **

The cafeteria was busy with staff and visitors eating and queuing to pay, but Castiel and Mary’s corner table seemed to be enclosed in a bubble that no one else could penetrate. The tables close to theirs were empty as if their expressions were driving potential neighbors away. Castiel was glad of it. They didn’t need company, other voices close enough that words would break from the hum of noise that was already there that they would hear, absorb, hate because these people were talking at all when Sam wasn’t.

Castiel watched Mary break small pieces of bread away from her sandwich and roll them into balls, creating a small pile on the side of her plate. “You need to eat,” he said.

She startled as if coming out of a daze and looked at him. “I’m not hungry, I guess.”

“You are, you just can’t feel it properly. You need to fuel yourself for Sam and Dean.”

He knew invoking her sons’ names was how to reach her, and it worked. She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly before swallowing and chasing it with a gulp of strong coffee.

Castiel fiddled with the sugar packets in their small container, sorting them into size and color and then aligning them in neat lines while Mary continued to eat.

When she pushed her plate away, sandwich eaten, Castiel said, “Can I get you something else?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay now.” She checked her watch. “How much longer do you think it will take?”

“They said at least a few hours, perhaps more depending on what they find in there,” Castiel said. “It’s been four, but hopefully it will be long enough for Dean to get some real sleep.”

Dean hadn’t resisted too much when Mary and Castiel had encouraged him to get some rest while Sam was in surgery. He was exhausted even before he was tethered to Sam, but now that his energy was directed to keeping Sam alive, it was worse for him. The fatigue Sam’s body felt from its fight to get through minute by minute was now Dean’s.

“But not too long for it to be too much for Sam,” Mary added.

“He won’t die now,” Castiel reminded her.

“He could still be hurt again. His blood pressure…”

Castiel knew that was a risk. All that Dean had done was tether Sam’s lifeforce to his. He couldn’t control anything else. He also knew Mary needed reassurance, so he said, “I believe in Sam.”

Mary drew a deep breath and said, “I do, too. I believe in him always, but there are some things that his strength and determination can’t control alone.” She rubbed her temples. “What that reaper did to them, how does it work? Dean didn’t explain it properly.”

Castiel set the container of sugar back in the center of the table and said, “I don’t know much about it. It’s very old magic that I could never be able to replicate. It is the power of Death and reapers, and they rarely share what they can do. But what it did was tie their lives together, make them one. What Dean did will keep Sam alive as long as he lives.”

“So they live and die together.”

“Yes. I think that is the best part of that magic. It is the way they would always want it to end. Neither of them does well without the other. It has ended with… it ended badly in the past.”

He knew Mary knew some of the facts of the apocalypse, but he wasn’t sure if Sam and Dean had shared the full story of how the last seal had been broken. It was their tale to tell, not his, so he bit his tongue and remained silent.

“Do you think Dean knew what he was doing?” she asked. “He seemed almost drunk after it was done.”

“That was exhaustion and euphoria,” Castiel said. “He had saved Sam. I hope he knew, though I think he would agree to any deal if Sam lived. That is his nature. _Their_ nature. They would both sacrifice and do anything for each other.”

“I know.” Mary sighed. “I see that, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of them still. I’ve been back for two years now, but I still feel like I’m getting to know them again. They lived through so much without me that I don’t know about. They don’t tell me.”

“They’re protecting you.”

“I sometimes wish they wouldn’t. I need to know these things.” She ducked her head. “I’m scared, Cas. When we were in that motel room with the EMT’s, when Sam’s heart stopped, I was terrified for him, but I was also scared for Dean. When Sam was killed in that other world, I saw what it did to Dean. He was going back for Sam’s body, but he had no chance of coming out alive again, and he knew it. I was watching the EMT’s work to save Sam, knowing they were really saving them both. I lose one, I lose them both, it’s always been that way, but now it’s a physical fact. When Dean dies, Sam does, too. That might be what they want, but I don’t want to lose either of them, let alone both.”

“It’s what they would want,” Castiel reminded her.

Mary’s hands fisted on the tabletop. “It’s not what I want.”

Castiel had no answer to give so he remained silent.

Mary drained her coffee and said, “We should go up. Sam might be back soon, and I don’t want him to be alone when he is.”

Castiel pushed back his chair and stood as Mary set her plate and cup on the tray and then picked it up and carried it to the rack where other dirty trays were. She slid it into place and then strode to the door with Castiel following.

They rode up in the elevator to Sam’s floor and Mary went straight to the nurses' station where Franklyn, one of the nurses they’d met previously was filling in a form on a clipboard. He looked up and smiled at their approach and said, “Good timing. We’ve just settled Sam back in his room.”

“How did it go?” Mary asked. “Is he okay?”

Franklyn set down the clipboard. “As far as I know, it went well. Doctor Simons did the surgery and she’ll come around to speak to you soon.”

Mary thanked him and then addressed Castiel. “I’ll go wake Dean up. He’s going to be mad if we don’t.”

“I’ll sit with Sam until you get back then,” Castiel said.

She gave him a grateful smile and walked quickly toward the family room.

Castiel knew that once Dean was awake, he would want to be with Sam and his mother, so Castiel walked quickly to Sam’s room and went in, wanting a chance to assess him before he had to leave the Winchesters alone together.

He approached the bed and took Sam in. There were still icepacks around him, cooling his skin, but he looked a little less flushed now. The equipment was the same, but what caught Castiel’s eyes was the new dressing on his stomach. It was larger now where they’d needed to extend the incision, and when Castiel focused beneath he saw the inflammation and difference there. They’d taken something from Sam.

Castiel drew his gaze to Sam’s face and said, “You need to work hard now, Sam. You need to come back.”

He didn’t know if his words had penetrated Sam’s unconscious mind but he hoped they had.

He glanced to the door, checking that Mary and Dean weren’t waiting yet, and then allowed himself to look into Sam’s mind, to search for the damage there again.

He gasped and staggered back, his hands coming up to defend himself from what he saw and the horror it brought.

Where there had been dark patches sprinkled among the light, there were shadows of nothing now. He looked deeper, swallowing hard, and then quickly pulled his focus back and shook his head.

Sam was gone. Where his presence had shone before was nothingness.

He stared at Sam’s face in shock for a moment and then snapped back to himself and formed his expression into something neutral as the door opened and Dean came in.

He didn’t pay Castiel a moment’s attention. Instead, he went straight to Sam’s side and looked him up and down. “Hey, Sammy.

Castiel was grateful for Mary’s presence in the doorway as it gave him an excuse to get out. Without a word to Dean he left the room, patting Mary on the arm, and saying, “I’ll be in the family room if you need me.”

Mary rushed to the bed, greeting Sam softly, and Castiel fled along the hall. He got into the small room he’d been using and fell into a chair. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen, and he was terrified. He had been unsure if he could make it right before, and now he was almost sure he couldn’t. If he had grace, he could perhaps heal Sam’s injuries, but he didn’t know what he could do to return Sam’s spirit to his own mind.

He sat in horrified silence for a long time before something drew him from his thoughts—his phone ringing.

He answered it, glad of the excuse to do something other than think, and he heard Jack’s voice in response.

_ “Cas, can you talk? I didn’t want to distract you, but we’ve all been going crazy here wondering what’s happening with Michael. Are you okay? Is Dean?” _

“Sam got him back,” Castiel said. “I’m sorry, I should have called. We’ve been distracted.”

_ “He’s back! Michael’s gone?” _

Castiel heard voices in the back of the call that Jack shushed.

“Michael is without a vessel again,” Castiel said.

_ “Yes! When will you be home?” _

“I’m not sure yet,” Castiel said. “There were complications. Sam was hurt.”

_ “What? No! What happened?” _

“Michael hurt him,” Castiel said. “He’s in the hospital now.”

Jack sucked in a harsh breath. _“This is my fault. I should have killed him when I had the chance. I should have stayed when you all came back. I could have killed him.”_

“You would have been trapped,” Castiel pointed out.

_ “But Sam would be okay!” _ Jack snapped.

“It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault but Michael’s. And that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is Sam.”

Jack drew a breath and exhaled in a sigh that crackled the line. _“Where are you? I’m coming.”_

“There is nothing you could do if you were here, Jack. I can’t do anything. Only two people are allowed in the room at a time, so I am staying on the ward alone. Mary and Dean are with him. All we can do here is wait.”

_ “That sounds really difficult.” _

“It is,” Castiel agreed. “It’s almost impossible. So you don’t need to suffer here, too.”

_ “Like I’m not going to suffer here?” _

“I will call you more often, let you know what’s happening,” Castiel said, though he knew he couldn’t tell the truth of what he had seen. Jack didn’t need to know any more than Dean and Mary did yet. Let them all have hope a little longer.

Jack’s voice dropped to a whisper. _“How bad is it, Cas? Is he going to be okay?”_

“He will live,” Castiel said, glad that he could at least say that much honestly. “Dean has seen to that, and we’re hoping when my grace has replenished, I will be able to help him.”

That wasn’t a lie really. Mary and Dean were hoping that. Castiel was the one that had lost that comfort.

_ “What can I do?” _ Jack asked.

“Stay at home and help there however you can,” Castiel said. “How is Nick?”

_ “He’s okay I guess. _ _Bobby is taking care of him. I can do that now. That’s helping, right?”_

“It is,” Castiel said. “It will help a lot. But don’t hurt yourself to do it. I know you struggle to be around him.”

_ “No,” _ Jack said firmly _. “Sam could do it, so I can. It’s not really Lucifer; it just looks like it is. I won’t let that scare me now.”_

“That’s good, Jack. I’m proud of you. Sam and Dean will be, too.”

Jack’s voice was tentative. “ _Will Sam really?”_

“You know he will,” Castiel said. “If he knew what you were doing, he would be very proud.”

It was just that he couldn’t know now. And Jack could not know that.

“I should go, Jack,” Castiel said, suddenly needing nothing more than to be truly alone to process what he had seen in Sam.

_ “Oh, okay. I’ll speak to you soon,” _ Jack said. _“And tell everyone I’m thinking about them.”_

“I will,” Castiel said. “Goodbye, Jack.”

After Jack had said his own farewell, Castiel ended the call and set the phone down on the arm of the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He wished there was someone he could talk to about what was happening, someone that would know what to say to him. There was no one though. The only person that might have been able to find the words was Sam, and Sam was…

He swallowed hard and spoke the words aloud to the room, making them real. “Sam is gone.”


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter Nine_ **

 

Jo strode through the lobby of St Luke’s Hospital in Duluth, Minnesota, and looked around.

Some people were milling around, looking distracted, while others were bustling about with purpose, most of those in some kind of uniform, and still others were sitting on the grouped chairs. Jo passed them over with a glance, saw that none were who she was looking for, and moved on.

She hadn’t known she was going to come, to answer Dean’s prayer, until she was halfway there. She was in Wisconsin before she admitted to herself that was where she was going and began to drive faster and with purpose.

When she’d first heard Dean’s prayer, she’d dismissed it as a trick of Michael’s and she’d carried on through Illinois, always moving and always looking over her shoulder for Michael on her tail. But then he’d prayed again and she’d been forced to consider her position.

She no longer thought it was a trick of Michael’s. Prayer was a personal thing, only Dean’s voice could have come to her if Dean was praying, but there was still a risk. What if Michael had left him but chosen to keep him prisoner?

Ultimately, it was the need in Dean’s voice that had made her come. Someone that sounded that desperate needed to be checked on. She wasn’t a saint by any means, but she thought she would help if she could. Also, she would be able to check on Michael through him. If she was close and felt his presence, she would leave again. There had been nothing to indicate that an archangel was within the hospital walls, though, so she’d gone inside.

She walked towards the desk where people were queueing, planning to ask for directions to Sam, when she heard a gruff voice she recognized.

“An Americano and a triple red-eye.”

She turned and saw Dean standing by a coffee cart, propping himself up on the counter as if he didn’t have the energy to stand alone.

She walked towards him, calling his name, and he spun around to look at her. A look of disbelief crossed his features and then it became exquisite relief. He walked away from the cart, seeming energized and upright now, ignoring the calls from the barista that he hadn’t paid for his order.

“Jo!” he said, his eyes wide and amazed. “You came!”

“I came,” she acknowledged. “Where is Michael?”

For a moment, Dean looked blank, as if he didn’t even recognize the name, and then he seemed to come to life with a gasp. “He’s gone. Sam got him out of me. I don’t know where he is now. That doesn’t matter though. It’s Sam that needs you.”

Jo would have disagreed—where Michael was now mattered a lot—but she could see there was no point. Dean wasn’t aware of that threat while he was dealing with his own.

“What happened to him?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you on the way,” Dean said. “Come with me.”

He strode purposefully across the lobby to the elevators and pressed the button to summon a car. When it arrived, he walked in and waited impatiently for Jo before slamming his thumb down on a button. There was a couple coming toward the elevator, but he didn’t hold it for them. He didn’t even seem to see them. He was focused on Jo and there was a manic gleam in his eyes.

“Well?” Jo prompted.

“He was stabbed by Michael,” Dean said in a rush. “It’s done some real damage to his gut. They’ve operated twice and he’s stable, kinda, but he’s not waking up. Cas can’t heal him.”

“If Castiel can’t, what makes you think I can?”

“Cas gave most of his grace to Sam before he went after Michael so he’d be stronger. It was the grace that kept him alive as long as it did, but it’s not doing the rest. It’s like he’s stuck now. And he’s…” He trailed off and shook his head. “He’s really sick.”

Before Jo could ask a question, the doors opened and Dean rushed out, leading them to a hall of rooms filled with people in beds surrounded by equipment, each emitting their own sounds and movements.

Jo fell behind Dean as she looked into the rooms, and he stopped and looked back. “Come on!”

She caught up with him and looked through the window set into the wall that Dean was pointing to. There was a woman in the room, sitting on a chair, but it was Sam lying on a bed that drew her eyes. He had his own equipment surrounding him, and his body was barely covered. There were icepacks pressed against his skin. He was flushed with fever and there were deep shadows ringing his eyes. Jo knew even before she looked properly that he was desperately ill.

“Can you do it?” Dean asked eagerly. “Can you help him?”

Jo narrowed her eyes and looked deeper into Sam, seeing through skin and flesh to what lay beneath. Under the dressing on his stomach was inflammation and tender flesh. She thought that there was something she could do for that, perhaps, but it was in his head that the real damage was. It was almost entirely in shadow, and there was no shine of Sam’s presence in there.

“You didn’t mention brain damage,” she said.

“Does that make a difference?”

“Yes. I can’t heal that.”

Dean’s face fell into lines of devastation. “You have to!”

Jo shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dean, I really am, but there is nothing I can do for that kind of damage.”

“But Cas said…”

“What did he say?”

Dean shook his head jerkily, “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. He’s different than you. He knows Sam.”

Jo wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, Castiel was as limited as her, but she had seen much injury and illness in her time on earth and she knew what she was capable of healing and what she couldn’t do as she was now.

“Where is Castiel?” she asked.

Dean rubbed at his bloodshot and tired eyes. “He’s gone back to the motel to get clothes for us. Mom’s gone back to shower a couple of times, but I can’t make myself leave. I need to be close to him if…” He stopped, looking confused. “Why am I even telling you this?”

“I don’t know,” Jo said. “You should be with your brother, Dean.”

Dean moaned, a mournful sound that seemed to encompass all his pain, and he walked away without a word and went into the room. The woman inside looked up, surely Mary Winchester, and Dean shook his head and took a seat on the other side of the bed.

Jo watched them a moment, feeling oddly deflated. She would have liked to help, but all that—healing from within—was available to her was never going to happen. She had heard the stories of Gadreel and what he did to Sam, acting as his life-support, healing and ultimately betraying him. She could do that, heal him more over time perhaps, but Dean would never allow it.

She started to walk away, towards the elevators and her life on the run, when her footsteps faltered. She didn’t have to go on the run. She could hide instead. There was a man in that room that needed help that she could give, a family that was desperate, and she would be able to help them while helping herself. Sam would be out of bed again, able to walk and talk while she powered him. And he could defend her.

The Winchesters had a history of beating the odds. They had defeated Michael and Lucifer together once, and there had been more successes that followed. Even the Darkness had been stopped by Dean. Was it impossible that they could do it again? They would need to do it together. All the stories said the Winchester brothers were a team. Perhaps she could be free of Michael if she was there to help Sam be a part of the plan. Dean wouldn’t be distracted, and Sam could put his mind towards finding a solution to the threat.

She could help them and herself by doing this, but it would come at a cost. She would have to hide carefully so Castiel couldn’t see her, leaving Sam in control at all times. It would be boring, but wasn’t it worth being bored to save a life and possibly the world? To save herself?

She realized there really was no choice to be made. She had to do it for them all. She glanced back into the room, seeing Mary and Dean seated by the bed, and made her choice. She opened the door and went inside.

Dean looked up and his eyes widened, “Jo! Have you…”

Before he could finish his question, Jo was at his side with her fingers pressed to his forehead. He collapsed forward and she caught him and eased him back in his chair.

Mary was on her feet, her eyes wide and angry. “What are you doing?” she asked harshly.

“Helping,” Jo said simply.

“What do you mean helping? Can you heal Sam?”

She walked around the bed toward Mary, and Mary stood firm, though what threat she could pose to an angel Jo couldn’t imagine. There were no angel blades in the room.

“What are you doing?” Mary asked, holding a hand out to her son as if she could defend him with touch.

Jo stopped her with a hand on her forehead. Mary collapsed and Jo caught her, settling her back in the chair and touching her temple to wipe the memory of the last few minutes from her mind and replacing it with new. She would just remember Dean and herself being in the room together, Dean falling asleep and her succumbing against her will. She did the same for Dean, wiping their interaction from his mind completely, and then she slid open the window on the opposite wall a little to allow her passage inside and then slipped from the room.

Dean and Mary dealt with, it was time to talk to Sam.

xXx

The room was only dimly lit by a naked bulb above Sam’s head and the far-reaching walls were in darkness. They were solid, though, seemingly impossible to penetrate, though Sam continued to try with his clenched fists and bare feet.

He didn’t know how long he had been in this place, but he knew he needed to get out. He could hear voices on the other side of the wall, and their muffled words kept him fighting when he wanted to stop and give in.

There was a chair under the bulb, a large and plush chair that would look at home in Dean’s ‘man cave’. Sam knew without testing it how comfortable it would be. He could sit there forever and never need to move again. He could rest. Part of him whispered that he deserved the rest, hadn’t he done enough in his life to be able to stop now? But he couldn’t let himself. Perhaps he had done enough, but there was still more to do and he knew it. Dean was out there, Castiel and Mary, too, and he needed to be with them.

He had freed Dean from Michael, but it hadn’t ended there. The archangel was still in the world, probably looking for another vessel now, and when he had one, his reign of horror would be unleashed on the world. Sam needed to be there to help his family stop that.

That was what they did.

He pulled back his fist and slammed it into the wall again, feeling the impact on his knuckles like a blow to solid iron, but it made no difference to the wall; there was no give or light peeking through. He kicked at it with his bare feet, but it did nothing apart from hurt him. He didn’t let it stop him though. The voices out there gave him a reason to continue his efforts, gave him a purpose.

He tried to shout back, but his voice was almost gone from all the times he had tried before, and he barely heard it himself. The futility of what he was doing settled over him—not for the first time—and he stopped with his forehead pressed against the wall in front of him.

“I need help,” he whispered.

“I’ll say you do.”

Sam spun around and saw the shape of a woman standing just outside of the reach of the bulb’s light. He moved towards her, unmindful of any possible threat she may pose to him, and she stepped into the light.

Sam gasped. “Jo! What are you doing here?”

“I came to help you, of course. Why else would I be day-tripping in your head?”

“This is my head?”

Even as he asked the question, Sam realized it could be nowhere else. He had been trapped within himself before, when Castiel had broken down the wall in his mind, and he remembered the way he had felt the bleed of the real world then in the scent of whiskey and old spice that filled Bobby’s home. He could smell something antiseptic and harsh now.

“I’m in a hospital,” he stated. “What happened?”

“You were stabbed by Michael. Don’t you remember?”

Sam touched the place on his stomach where Michael had driven in the blade and nodded. “Yeah. I thought it was okay though. The grace…”

“The grace has limits,” she said. “And it doesn’t matter now. What matters is Dean and the world.”

Sam’s breaths came quicker. “Dean! Is he okay?”

“No. Michael has him.”

“No! I got him out!” Sam gasped. “He was gone.”

Jo shrugged. “I don’t know exactly what happened. I guess Michael made him a promise that he couldn’t resist. Isn’t that what happened last time?”

Sam nodded slowly, understanding coming with horror. Dean had said yes to Michael to save Sam and Jack and defeat Lucifer. If Sam was in a hospital now and trapped in his head the way he was, Dean would be trying to fix him. Had Michael offered to help Sam in return for Dean’s consent? Michael obviously hadn’t kept up his part of the bargain, but if Dean was desperate enough… Sam would have done the same thing.

“You have to help me get out of here,” Sam said. “I need to help him.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Can you heal me?” Sam asked.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, “I can, but it’s not going to be as easy as you’re hoping. Your body is in a mess, and your mind almost completely gone. I wasn’t sure I would be able to talk to you at all. But you’re here and functioning, though hidden, which makes it easier. I can’t help your body from the outside. I need to do it from the inside.”

Sam backed away from her until his shoulders hit the wall. “You want to use me as a vessel.”

She shook her head, and Sam felt a moment of relief until she said, “I don’t want to _use_ you as anything. But we’re low on options. The only way I can help you, keeping you running and get to work on your body, is for you to allow me in.”

It was Sam’s nightmare come into being again. After Gadreel, he’d dreamed of this happening again, someone coming and taking his body away from him. In his nightmares, he’d seen Kevin die, Mary, Dean, he’d seen his own hands sinking an angel blade into Castiel’s chest, and he’d watched helplessly as another angel controlled him.

“I can’t do that,” he whispered.

Jo frowned. “Really? Not even for Dean? Not even for the world?”

Dean _was_ the world to Sam; him, Mary, Castiel, Jack, they were everything to him. And he would die for them, but this… It felt like too much.

Jo watched him for a moment and then sighed. “Fine. I guess I’ll pass on your regrets to the rest of your family and get back to enjoying the world while I can. Who knows how long Michael will take to destroy it now he has his vessel again.” She turned away and walked into the darkness again.

“Stop!” Sam shouted after her, his voice hoarse but loud in his desperation. “I’ll do it.”

She came back into the light and looked him in the eye. “You’ll let me in?”

Sam tried to say the word, but the air wouldn’t rise up his throat. He knew he had to do it, there was no choice to make, but his body rebelled against the thought of being overpowered again.

“I will not interfere, Sam,” she promised. “I will stay down and just power and heal you. When it’s over, when Michael is stopped and you’re healed enough to go on alone, I will leave. I won’t fight you and I won’t hurt anyone, I swear. Say yes to me and we can save Dean.”

Sam drew a deep breath and forced the world through numb lips. “Yes.”

Jo’s body began to glow, bright enough that it hurt his eyes, and then she was gone and a cloud of light was coming at him. He felt it flooding into him, warming and creeping through his veins, and then it settled in him and he was able to breathe again. He stretched his arms out, ensuring that he still had control over himself, that she hadn’t stolen it from him, and was able to make the movements.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but I need this and I can’t risk you changing your mind.”

Horror pierced Sam’s heart like a shard of ice and then he felt blissful nothingness…

He gasped in a breath and looked around. He was leaning against the wall, the voices silent on the other side but there was a sense of something reaching for him now. He looked around the dimly lit room. Nothing had changed but he was sure something should be different. Had he heard a voice? Had someone been there? Was it Dean? Had he found a way into this place? He would be trying, Sam knew.

 _No,_ he thought immediately, his mind dismissing the idea. _No one was here. You’ve always been alone. You need to get out._

That was right. He had to escape this place. He listened for the voices, but they were absent. That spurred him into action again. Wherever the voices had gone, he needed to be there, too.

He drew back a fist and slammed it into the wall. He expected no better result than he’d gotten the times he’d done it before, but this time he felt a little give. His heart jumping, he hit it again, a pinprick of light bleeding through.

Sam laughed as exhilaration filled him. He was doing it. Somehow, some way, he was getting out.

He punched at the wall again and again, spreading the light from a pinprick into a hole, and he laughed harder as the voices returned, the sounds coming clearer now and recognizable. It was Dean and Mary.

“I’m coming, Dean,” he said, his voice stronger now. “I’m coming.”

He started to pummel the wall like a boxer on the attack, knowing what was waiting for him on the other side and what he had to do.

Dean was waiting.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Chapter Ten_ **

Dean jerked awake and looked around Sam’s room. Mary was asleep in her chair on the other side of the bed and Sam seemed unchanged.

Dean stretched and rolled his shoulders. He didn’t remember falling asleep; the last thing he remembered was talking about going to get coffees for them. He couldn’t deny he felt better for the sleep though, rested. The constant lethargy that had been his companion since Sam was admitted to the hospital was gone, even the added drain and pressure of their life bond wasn’t as heavy now as it had been before.

His eyes moved to Sam and he appraised him. Something felt different. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, Sam looked the same as ever, but he felt it. Something had changed.

“How are you doing, Sammy?” he asked, touching Sam’s arm where it lay at his side. He could have been imagining it, seeing what he wanted rather than what was there, but he thought that his skin was a little cooler than it had been the last time he’d checked. He glanced up at the monitor beside the bed that recorded Sam’s stats and saw his fever had dropped by a degree.

Dean grinned. “Nice work, Sammy.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes too high for them to be dashed, but it felt like a real change, like Sam was really improving now. This could be the upswing they’d been waiting for.

The door opened and Olivia came in pushing a cart.

“Sam’s fever is coming down!” Dean said.

“It is?” Olivia’s eyebrows rose and she pushed aside the cart and picked up the chart that hung at the end of the bed. She checked the monitor and then nodded. “You’re right. He’s down a full degree.” She made a note on the chart then set it back in place.

“Should I tell the doctor?”

“I’ll tell him when I’m done here,” she said. “I am going to refresh Sam’s icepacks and clean him up a little. I’ll need the room.”

Dean nodded, for once not feeling grudging at the fact they had to leave. “Sure. Okay.”

He got to his feet and circled the bed to Mary’s side then shook her shoulder gently. “Mom, we’ve got to clear the room,” he said,

Mary roused and rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I fell asleep.”

“We both did,” Dean said. “And we missed it. Sammy’s cooling a bit. His fever is down a whole degree.”

Mary’s eyes widened and she looked between Sam and the monitor. “That’s great.”

Dean nodded eagerly, “Yeah. Olivia’s going to get him set up with some new cooling packs, too.”

“Of course,” Mary said; she got to her feet and then wavered a bit. “I can’t believe I slept so hard.”

“We both needed it,” Dean said.

Mary kissed Sam’s cheek and walked to the door and opened it. “Dean?” she prompted when Dean didn’t move but stayed staring at Sam.

“Yeah, I’m…” He gasped as his eyes caught the small movement in Sam’s fingers. “Sammy!”

Mary rushed to the other side of the bed, her hand on Sam’s arm. “What?”

Dean held up a hand to silence her and said, “Do it again, Sammy.”

Sam’s fingers twitched harder this time, moving the sheet they were resting on.

Dean knew Mary saw it too as she sucked in a breath and put a hand to her mouth.

“He’s moving,” she said.

Dean looked from her to Olivia, expecting to see some version of the emotion he felt at seeing Sam’s improvement, but she looked cautious.

“What?” he asked. “He’s waking up.”

Olivia’s face formed into sympathetic sadness. “It’s not uncommon for comatose patients to show some signs of movement. It’s muscle spasms. It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s waking up.”

Ignoring her, knowing better, Dean fixed his eyes on Sam again and squeezed his hand. “Come on, Sam,” he urged. “Give us something more.”

His fingers clenched in Dean’s and his eyes began to roll under their lids. A sob caught in Mary’s throat, and she immediately reached for Sam, cupping his cheek in one hand, the other resting lightly on his chest. “Please, Sam,” she begged. “Open your eyes.”

Dean gripped Sam’s hands and urged him with words and his hold on his hand to wake up.

Sam’s eyes rolled faster and the machine recording his heartbeat began to speed up.

Olivia stepped forward and said, “You need to give him space now,” she said.

“Why?” Dean snapped.

“Because if this is something other than him waking, the defibrillator will shock him, and you can’t be touching him when that happens.”

Hating it, feeling like he was abandoning his brother, Dean pulled his hands away and moved around the bed to pull Mary back, too as Olivia came forward and hit the call button on the side of the bed. It wasn’t the red emergency button that would have panicked Dean, but Sam’s climbing heart rate still had his nerves singing.

“Come on, Sam,” he muttered. “You’ve got this.”

His encouragement was rewarded with Sam’s eyes cracking open and then blinking rapidly. Forgetting the risk, Dean pushed past Mary and leaned over the bed so Sam would see him.

Sam looked up at him, and Dean knew a heart-stopping moment of panic as Sam’s eyes fixed on him and showed no sign of recognition or relief at their reunion. They had been warned Sam might not be the same after the damage that had been done to his brain with his low blood pressure, but Dean hadn’t allowed himself to think about it since it was nothing he could control, and he wanted to continue hope for the best rather than prepare for the worst. But when Sam blinked again, his eyes focused and Dean knew he was really seeing him. He looked surprised for a moment and then relieved.

Dean laughed shakily, “Hey, Sammy.”

Mary had moved to the other side of the bed, and she was stroking Sam’s hair back from his face. Sam’s eyes drifted to her and he looked surprised, perhaps at the tactile comfort when she had been more reticent about touch since she came back than Dean remembered her being before.

“Sam,” she sighed, her eyes filling with tears.

Sam’s head turned back toward Dean on the pillow and he brought up a shaking hand to the tube that fed into his throat.

Dean caught his hand before he could touch it and squeezed his fingers. “You need that right now, Sammy. Let it do the work.”

Sam shook his head slightly and his brow furrowed.

Dean laughed softly. “I know it’s uncomfortable, man, but you’ve got to wait till they think you’re ready to do without. Got me?”

Sam nodded and squeezed his fingers. The beeps of the machine were growing steady again as Sam relaxed.

“What do we have here then?” The voice came from behind them and Dean turned to see Doctor Franklyn and Olivia standing at the end of the bed. Dean had forgotten that Olivia was there at all, he’d been consumed with Sam, and he wondered how long she and the doctor had been watching their reunion without speaking.

Sam looked down the bed at the doctor and brought his free hand to the tube. Mary caught it and pushed it down and Sam looked annoyed.

Doctor Franklyn smiled and said, “Okay, Sam, I get the message. Shall we see what we can do about it?”

Sam nodded slightly and his brow smoothed with relief.

“I’ll need a little space,” the doctor said. “But you can stay in the room. Olivia, bring me a cart.”

Dean reluctantly released his grip on Sam, feeling guilty as Sam’s fingers grasped for him, and moved to the window. Mary moved around the bed to stand with him, and her hand crept into his. Dean wasn’t sure if she was giving or taking comfort, but he tried, with a small squeeze and murmured words, to reassure her.

“Okay, Sam,” Doctor Franklyn said. “I need you to stay calm now. This is going to be uncomfortable at first. I am going to slow the machine helping you, and I want you to concentrate on taking nice deep breaths. If you can sustain that, we can get this tube out for you. First of all, can you give me a nice big cough?”

Sam nodded and made a jarring choking sound that Dean guessed was his attempt at a cough with the tube in his throat.

“That’s good. I’m going to slow the machine now.” He pressed a button and the familiar sound of the ventilator that had been the background to their vigil slowed its pace. Dean concentrated on Sam’s chest as he drew uneven breaths that gradually fell into a rhythm.

“Oxygen sats?” the doctor asked.

“Ninety-seven,” Olivia said.

Doctor Franklyn nodded and said, “I’m going to take off all support now, Sam. It might feel strange at first, as if you’re choking, but concentrate on your breaths. If we see any sign of struggle, we will return the ventilation, so you’re perfectly safe.”

He pressed a button and the ventilator stopped altogether. There was no pause between the last breath it delivered and the first that Sam controlled himself, and Dean grinned, feeling that he should have known Sam would rock it. He always had been the overachiever in the family.

“Very good. Let’s get this tube out. Prepare alternate oxygen delivery, Olivia,” he said.

Olivia attached a tube to a valve outlet, set in the wall, and then attached a face mask to the tube and said, "I have flow. Ready when you are, Doctor".

The doctor removed the hard mask that held the vent tube in place and set it down on the bed, leaving the tube suspended from Sam’s mouth. He pressed a button that lifted the bed a little higher, making it easier for Dean to see Sam’s face and the look of impatience that made him grin.

“Okay, Sam, here we go,” Doctor Franklyn said. “I want a nice big cough.”

Sam coughed hard and the doctor threaded the tube partway out of his mouth making him rasp and choke on a breath. The doctor showed no sign of concern as he said, “Syringe.” Olivia handed it to him and he inserted it into vent the tube and drew back on the plunger. Sam seemed to be growing agitated now, and Dean remembered how it had felt for him to be extubated after Alastair had strangled him. It had been worse than uncomfortable to feel the obstruction in his throat that seemed to block all air though it was designed to do the opposite.

The last of the vent tube was removed from Sam’s mouth and the doctor took the plastic wand Olivia held out to him that made a sucking sound and put it in Sam’s mouth, saying, “It’s just suction, Sam. We’re clearing your airway,” as Sam gagged. He flicked off the machine and handed it back to Olivia.

Sam’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and Olivia slid the mask she had prepared over his face and curled the elastic around the back of his head.

“I’m going to give you a moment to rest, Sam, but I will be back in soon to run an assessment,” Doctor Franklyn said, striding away from the bed and sweeping out of the room, his coat billowing behind him like a cape. Dean grinned at the image; with what he had done for them and Sam, a superhero cape seemed appropriate, even if it was a little theatrical.

Olivia adjusted the mask and wiped around Sam’s mouth with a towelette. “Nice deep breaths, Sam,” she said.

Sam obeyed for a moment and then his hand came to the mask and tugged it away from his mouth.

“No, Sam,” she said, pushing his hand away. “You need that.”

Sam scowled and tried to pull it away again; he seemed to be trying to speak.

Olivia leaned close and listened to him for a moment and then nodded. “Dean’s still here. Your mom is, too.” She gestured to them to come closer.

Dean hurried to the side of the bed and grinned down at Sam. “Hey,” he said.

Mary came to the other side of the bed and stroked her hand along Sam’s flushed cheek. “Hello, Sam,” she said. “We’ve missed you.”

Olivia cleared her throat and said, “We will need the room soon when they’re ready for Sam’s assessments, but for now I’ll leave you alone.”

“Okay,” Mary said distractedly, her eyes still on Sam.

Dean looked at Olivia and said, “Thank you, Olivia.”

“You’re very welcome. It’s good to see Sam awake at last.”

She slipped out of the room, leaving the small family alone, and Dean said, “Well, Sammy, there’s some stuff we need to have a serious talk about now.”

Sam nodded, looking worried, and Mary said, “Not now, Dean.”

“No, I’m serious,” Dean said, hiding his grin with effort. “We need to have a real talk about that beard.”

Mary laughed shakily and Sam rolled his eyes. He tugged the mask a few millimeters from his face and said, “It looks fine.”

“Handsome,” Mary added.

Dean scoffed. “Sure it does.”

He felt a wave of relief as Sam shook his head. He seemed much better than they had any right to expect. He was talking and he knew them. It felt like a miracle. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that was the end, that Sam was completely better and that there would be no aftereffects from his brain injury, but it was already more than he’d let himself hope for. There would be tests and things to discuss with Sam, but in that moment, he let himself feel his relief.

Sam was awake.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Chapter Eleven_ **

 

It felt to Mary that they had only moments with Sam before Olivia came back and said they needed to leave, as Doctor Franklyn was ready to run the expected tests and assessments on Sam.

Getting reluctantly to her feet, Mary kissed Sam’s cheek and promised to be back as soon as she could. Sam nodded, his hand squeezing hers and then turned his attention to Dean who was still seated and looking mulishly unwilling to leave.

“Come on, Dean, the sooner we go the sooner we can come back,” she encouraged.

Dean sighed and stood then patted Sam’s shoulder. “Behave yourself or I’ll be back to kick your ass,” he warned.

Sam’s lips tugged into a smile and he nodded, pulling the mask away from his face to say, “I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better,” Dean said.

Mary went to the door and held it open for Dean. He cast Sam one more searching look and then passed her out into the hall and stopped to lean against the wall as Olivia closed the blinds with an apologetic look. Doctor Franklyn came towards them with another man he didn’t recognize pushing the cart holding the equipment Mary recognized from before as the EEG to check Sam’s brainwaves again.

Dean straightened up and asked, “How long will you need?”

“At least two hours,” Doctor Frankly replied. “There are assessments to be done and Sam will need an EEG and MRI for us to get a good view of his condition. We have your numbers on Sam’s file so we will call you when we’re done.”

“No need,” Dean said. “We’ll be here.”

“I would advise you to use the time to eat and rest. Sam is going to need more support from you than ever now, and you need to be at your best if you’re going to help him. He is in safe hands, Dean.”

Dean eyed him for a moment and then nodded.

“And you’ll call if anything happens?” Mary asked.

“We will,” Doctor Franklyn agreed.

Dean took Mary’s hand and led her along the hall to the family room. He moved purposefully, seeming almost eager, and Mary puzzled over it for a minute. She was sure it wasn’t that Dean was glad to get away from Sam that moved him, but rather his happiness and relief coming to the surface again.

She felt the same. She had been so scared for her son when they’d arrived at the hospital, and that fear had only grown as they’d heard about surgeries and possible side effects of the damage done to him. And now that they had something good, Sam’s voice still in their ears, she felt heady relief. She knew it wasn’t over. There might be consequences for what had happened, but they’d already been given more than she’d let herself hope for. Even Castiel hadn’t been able to promise to do this much for them. He had just shared his hope.

“We should call Cas,” Mary said.

Dean nodded and said, “On it,” as he pulled out his phone. He came to a stop by the elevators and tapped his foot impatiently and then said, “Cas, man, where are you?” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll tell you about it when you get here. No, he’s fine. Honest. Would I sound like this if he wasn’t?” He huffed a laugh. “I don’t sugarcoat anything, Cas. Just hurry your ass up. We’ll be in the quad garden.” He ended the call and said, “He’s almost here.”

Mary frowned. “You didn’t tell him about Sam.”

“Nope. I want to see his face when he gets this news.”

Mary smiled. “Me too.”

Dean pressed the button to summon the elevator car and then they stepped in with a middle-aged couple that wore the world-weary expressions of those that had been visiting someone they cared about. It was the same expression Mary had seen in many faces in the hospital. They weren’t as intense as those she had seen in the mirror and in Dean and Castiel, but she could relate to it now. She was happier by far, but still cautious about letting herself be too happy. There was still one shoe suspended in the air waiting to drop, and none of them knew just how much of an impact it would have when it fell.

When they got to the first floor, they let the couple out first and then made their way across the lobby to the doors that led out into a garden Mary had seen but not visited before. The only fresh air she’d gotten was the walk between the Impala and hospital and motel on the few occasions she had gone back to clean up properly. She hadn’t wanted to leave either of her sons, though she knew that sometimes it was easier for Dean when she did. He could let himself really be weak for a while instead of trying to put on his supportive mask for her.

They went to a picnic table among rose beds and Dean sank down on the bench and tapped his hands on the tabletop nervously. Mary sat beside him and placed her hands over his. “It’s okay, Dean.”

Dean nodded, drew a breath, and then grinned. “It really is. I’m not stupid, I know it’s not over and there might still be stuff we don’t know about yet that we’re all going to have to deal with for Sam, and Michael is out there still, but this… I didn’t think it would happen like this. I hoped Cas would be able to do something, but Sammy did it. With that grace and his own strength, we have this alone. He’s awake now, and he knew us and was talking. He was a stubborn pain in the ass about that oxygen mask as he always would be. He was _Sam.”_

Mary smiled and rubbed at the tears that had slipped from her happy eyes. “He was.”

Dean shook his head marveling. “This is big.”

A strange expression crept across his face that Mary couldn’t name at first. It was different to anything she’d seen from him before. She realized this was what he looked like truly happy. She thought she might have seen it in that other world when Sam has stepped out of the trees, miraculously alive, but her focus had been on her youngest son. Since she’d come back, things had been so hard for them.

They never really seemed to have this kind of happiness that lasted more than scant seconds. She’d been happy to see them in that world when they’d come for her and Jack, but then she had realized that they were in danger. She had to hurt them when she told them she wasn’t willing to leave Bobby’s people, _her_ people behind. She had been happy when she and Dean had found Sam in the basement of the house Toni Bevelle was keeping him in, but he had been so hurt and there had been so much danger that she couldn’t let herself enjoy it.

Even the moments that had made her sons so happy, when she’d returned and Dean had found her, when Sam had come to her room with John’s journal, she had been grieving her husband and the sons she had known. She’d not had this moment of happiness that lasted. Even Michael seemed surmountable now that Sam was with them again. 

Dean was happy, she was happy, and Sam was awake. In that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than what she already had been given.

“Cas is here,” Dean said, waving a hand toward the angel that had just come through the door.

Castiel nodded and came towards them carrying a paper sack and two paper cups in a holder. He drew eyes of some of the other people in the garden, but he didn’t seem to notice them. He was wholly focused on them.

“What’s happened?” he asked, setting down his package and sinking down into the bench in front of them.

“Sam’s awake,” Dean said triumphantly.

Castiel’s eyes widened. “He woke up?”

“Yep,” Dean said happily, pulling over the paper sack and pulling out a wrapped burger and fries and a foil package Mary thought was her requested sandwich.

“How?” Castiel asked.

Dean looked up, his eyes bright with excitement. “His fever was going down, and I was sure something was different, but I couldn’t see it, then his fingers twitched. The nurse was saying it was normal, spasms or something, but…” He drew a breath. “I know my brother. We were talking to him and he started moving more. Then his eyes opened.”

Castiel nodded slowly, seeming to make some connection in his mind. “His eyes opened. That’s good.”

“Yeah, but that’s not all,” Dean said popping a fry into his mouth and chewing with a smug smile before continuing the tale of his brother’s achievement. “He is _awake_ awake. They took that tube out and he was talking. He was seeing us, knowing us.” He ran a hand through his hair, his expression wondering. “He knew us, Cas, like really knew us.”

Castiel just stared at him for a moment, stunned, and then his lips formed a careful smile and he said, “That’s great. Really.”

Mary watched him as Dean unwrapped his burger and took a large bite. There was something wrong with Castiel’s reaction. He seemed pleased, of course, but there was also more shock than she thought there should be. He’d said he was hopeful after he’d checked on Sam. He’d talked about how he might not need to do anything for Sam if the grace did its job for him. He was completely blindsided by this news that Sam was awake, and he shouldn’t have been. She suspected that there was more about Sam’s condition that he had seen and not shared with them.

“It’s the grace, isn’t it?” she asked. “That’s what’s done this?”

“It must be,” Castiel said with a smile that looked a little more genuine now. “It took longer than I would have expected, but what Sam and I did has never been done before to my knowledge. Perhaps it’s supposed to work this way. What about the rest of his injuries?”

“We’re not sure,” Dean said. “They’re running all kinds of tests right now. But for me, this is a gift horse and I’m not checking teeth. We’ll deal with whatever comes next together, whatever Sam needs. He’s awake.” He took another large bite of his burger and nodded, as if affirming the words he’d spoken to them to himself.

Mary unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until the first taste of chicken and bacon reached her tongue, and she chewed quickly and chased it with a gulp of soda. Even the act of eating for hunger felt good. She’d been eating out of a need to fuel herself for so long, since Michael had taken Dean, and now she remembered the simple pleasure of something so human as hunger being appeased.

“Will we be able to see him soon?” Castiel asked.

“They said a couple hours,” Dean said. “But we’ll get you in that room, even if we have to pay Olivia to turn a blind eye to the rules.”

“You can go in and I’ll wait outside,” Mary assured him. “Though they may be more relaxed about the rules now he’s awake.”

Castiel looked relieved, and Mary watched him thoughtfully as she ate. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was, or had been, hiding from them. She wanted to take her happiness and treasure it. If Castiel did know something they didn’t, it had to be wrong now that Sam was awake, didn’t it?

She hoped.

xXx

Castiel was unsure of what to think. He had _seen_ the damage, there was no way Sam should have been able to wake up without more help, if at all, he was _gone_ , but wake up he had.

Castiel had seen many things in his life, some of them incredible, but he had never misjudged his own knowledge so completely before. He’d never imagined the grace would be able to do this. It shouldn’t be possible. There were things grace couldn’t do. But something had done it, and Castiel tried to tell himself to follow Dean’s lead and just appreciate it for what it was. Sam was back. Despite that, he would feel better when he could see Sam’s recovery for himself.

The time they had to wait before seeing Sam again dragged, and conversation in the small family room on the ICU floor grew more and more banal as they waited. Whenever the door opened, they would all look up, but it was always another visitor to the unit coming to take a moment while their loved one was tended to, sitting in the comfortable chairs and drinking the coffee Dean said was rocket fuel.

The people that came in never spoke, they were lost in their own trauma, and Castiel found that he felt sympathy for them now where he had felt nothing before when his own feelings had been focused on the family in the room down the hall, the people he cared about and their desperately ill son and brother. He felt like he was seeing everything clearly now when he had been seeing through a veil before. 

Eventually, the door opened and Olivia came in. “They’re done with the tests now, and Doctor Franklyn would like to talk to you. I can take you to his office.”

“We’re not talking with Sam?” Mary asked.

“They’ve already discussed these results with Sam. He’s resting now, but he has given permission for full disclosure.”

“Sure, okay,” Dean said.

He got to his feet and waited for Mary and Castiel to do the same before following Olivia out of the room and along the hall to a section of doors without the windows that showed into patient rooms. The doors here bore names as well as numbers. She knocked on one and then, at the called invitation, opened the door and gestured them in.

Castiel filed in after Dean and Mary, taking in the room of dark wood furniture and forest green walls. The man behind the desk had greying hair and beard, both neatly trimmed. He clearly tried to show a persona of the calm and experienced physician, but Castiel could see the slight tightness around his eyes and the downturn of his lips. It worried him, making him sure bad news was coming.

“Hello, Dean, Mary,” the doctor said. “Take a seat.”

Mary and Dean sat down and Castiel stood behind them.

“This is Cas,” Dean said. “Sam’s other brother.”

The doctor’s eyes moved between Mary and Castiel, possibly comparing their ages and noting the unlikeliness of a maternal connection. He seemed to dismiss the confusion after a moment and he said, “Well, Sam is resting now, and we have further things to discuss with him, but I thought it best to go over these initial results with you alone to save Sam needing to hear them again. He seemed a little upset when we spoke before.”

Dean planted his hands on his knees and drew in a fortifying breath. “Okay. Go ahead. Tell us.”

“This is positive news,” Doctor Franklyn said. “I am not sure why it upset Sam, to be honest. It’s just unexpected news.” He opened a folder and took out a piece of white paper with black lines dancing up and down it. “We ran an EEG on Sam this afternoon, and these are the results. If you remember the screen you saw the last time we ran it, you will see the difference.” He ran his finger along one of the rising lines. “This shows patterns of what we would call a healthy brain. Sam’s brain waves are showing as active an EEG of any of you.”

“That’s a good thing though,” Castiel said.

The doctor frowned slightly. “It is, but it’s unexpected, as is the MRI scan we did. That’s more than unexpected, it’s extraordinary.” He stood and went to a light panel on the wall with two scans pinned up. He flipped on the light and the images became clear. “This is the most recent MRI,” he said, pointing to one. “And this is the section I want you to pay attention to. Here, you see the clear white areas.” He pointed to the same spot on the other MRI. “This is the tissue as it was after the last MRI. It’s dark here. That means there has been cell death.” He sat down again and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Unlike other cells, brain cells are incapable of regeneration. But that is what appears to have happened to Sam. There are still some small sections of dead tissue, but many are gone. We cannot explain it. There was no problem with the definition in either scan, the resolution was clear.”

Dean cleared his throat gruffly and said, “You’ve got to be wrong. There was something wrong with the films or the machine. If tissue doesn’t come back to life, but it has, it’s a mistake somewhere else.”

Mary nodded eagerly. “Yes. It must be.”

Castiel knew what they were covering, and he was glad they had the presence of mind to as he didn’t. The grace had healed the tissue, brought it back to life. There could be no medical explanation for it. There was also no explanation for why the grace had done it so suddenly when Castiel had seen the damage and absence of Sam the last time he’d been able to visit him, only hours ago. If the grace was going to do it, it should have been a more gradual process. 

“The damage that you can see now,” Dean said carefully, “what does that mean for Sam?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “I am not certain. Ordinarily, I would say there would be some deficit from that extent of damage, but I cannot pinpoint what it is after speaking to Sam. I ran a full neurological assessment on him and consulted with a colleague who is an expert in the field, and we cannot find any deficit at all. Sam is conscious and aware of his surroundings. He is retaining memories and seems to have no trouble recalling existing memories—apart from those around his injury, and that’s common with trauma. He is, as far as we can see, fully functioning. For someone that has just regained consciousness after his injuries, he is remarkably healthy.”

Dean blew out a breath and said, “That’s good, right? He’s okay.”

“He is better than we expected,” the doctor said. “There is still the injury to his abdomen to discuss, and I think that’s better done with Sam present. He might have had a chance to calm down now.”

“Calm?” Mary said, her brow creased with worry. “I thought he was just a little upset.”

“When we discussed the comparison of what we were seeing against what we expected, Sam grew upset,” he said. “I’m not sure why. He said that he wanted to rest, though, and requested that I discuss these results with you in private.”

Dean got to his feet. “That’s done now, so we can see him.” He was halfway to the door before the doctor could respond.

“Of course. I will give you all some time alone with him before coming to discuss the rest of Sam’s prognosis.”

Mary thanked him and then rushed out after Dean. Castiel looked between the two scans pinned to the lightbox, wondering what he was going to see when he saw Sam for himself, and then followed them out and back to Sam’s room. Mary and Dean went in and Castiel braced himself for what _he_ might see before following.

He stopped at the end of Sam’s bed, his mouth falling open and his eyes widening. Physically, Sam looked better than any of them had the right to expect. The icepacks were gone and there was only a tube threaded under his nose for oxygen support. There were electrodes on his chest still, but the largest that had connected to a defibrillator were gone and Olivia was packing them into a box. His face was missing the flush of fever it had worn for so long, and though he was pale, he looked virile and himself again. Even the shadows around his eyes seemed less prominent. 

With a sense of dread, Castiel allowed himself to look inside and assess the damage there. His gut wound was still inflamed and there was the same strange absence that he had noticed the first time he’d looked, but it was Sam’s head that showed the change. He was brighter there. Where Castiel had seen darkness, the void where Sam should be, he was bright and alive. There were still shadowed patches where the damage was, but those seemed to be fewer and smaller than before. If Castiel wasn’t seeing it himself, he would never have believed it possible. Sam really was there.

He withdrew himself to look at Sam’s face, and he saw Sam’s lips curl into a smile as he said, “Hey, Cas.” His voice was quiet and there was a rasp to it, but the fact there was a voice at all was a miracle with the damage. Despite what he’d been told, he hadn’t believed properly until he saw Sam himself. 

“Hello, Sam,” he said, his voice heavy with his relief.

“You look better without the mask,” Dean said.

Olivia laughed softly. “Yes, Sam proved unwilling to wear it.”

Mary gave Sam an admonishing look which he bore innocently, making her smile and shake her head.

“How are you feeling, Sam?” Castiel asked.

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “Okay, I guess. Tired more than anything.”

Olivia checked the machine at Sam’s side and said, “I’ll leave you to talk. You can all stay since I don’t think Sam is going to be on this floor much longer anyway.” She winked at Sam. “I think they’ll have you in the step-down unit pretty fast.”

“Thanks,” Sam said with a smile as she slipped out of the room. He waited until she was gone and then fixed an intense gaze on Dean. “What did you _do_?”

Dean needed no further explanation; he now knew why Sam had been upset after hearing about his miraculous recovery. His expression became defiant as he said, “I did what I had to do.”

Sam hitched himself up higher on his pillows and winced. Mary quickly placed her hand on his shoulder and said, “Take it easy, Sam.”

“What was the deal?” Sam asked, his voice rough with emotion.

Dean held up his hands. “No deal. Well, nothing we wouldn’t do anyway. It was Billie. She sent that reaper Jessica to help. All she did was connect us, Sam.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, placing a hand to the dressing on his stomach with a pained expression.

“It means you’re alive,” Dean said then rushed on when Sam glared at him. “We live and die together, and that’s not exactly that much of a stretch. We both know when death finally sticks, it’s going to have to be both of us going down together. Jessica tied your life to mine. You’re alive while I am. And…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And when I die, you do, too.”

“But Dean will not die if you are fatally injured, Sam,” Castiel said. “It’s you that is tethered to him. It’s not going to hurt Dean at all.”

Color returned to Sam’s face and he relaxed against his pillows. “Okay.”

Castiel had expected the reaction; he knew the Winchesters well enough to know that the other’s safety always came second to their own. As long as Dean was okay, Sam would accept anything else.

“What does Billie want though?” Sam asked.

“Just for us to play our part,” Dean said. “Which we always do anyway. Really, Sammy, this is a good deal. As long as I’m careful, you and me have got years left.”

Sam smiled slightly. “You’re going to have to take better care of your cholesterol levels. I’m not going out because of you having a heart attack.”

Dean’s eyes widened and his features formed a look of feigned horror. “Seriously, Sammy, you think you’re coming between me and cheeseburgers?”

Mary slapped his arm. “He’ll be careful, Sam, I’ll take care of it.”

Dean laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Sam smiled and seemed to sag against his pillow. He looked tired, understandably so, and Castiel wished the doctor would come and get it over with so that Sam could rest.

As if his thought had summoned him, the door opened and Doctor Franklyn came in. He looked around the room and said, “How are you feeling now, Sam?”

“Better,” Sam said.

The doctor looked confused, but Castiel understood. The time Sam must have spent while they were hearing about his recovery, his mind running free with thoughts of demon deals, would have been hard on him. He knew the truth now and could relax. 

The doctor stood at the end of the bed and picked up the clipboard as Mary and Dean sat down on either side of Sam and Castiel stood by Mary.

“We need to discuss your abdominal injury,” Doctor Franklyn said. “As we discussed, we had to perform a second surgery to deal with the abscess that formed, and it’s that which is going to complicate things for you. A portion of the bowel had started to die so we had to resect it.”

Sam frowned. “Okay, what does that mean?”

“You may have something called Short Bowel Syndrome.”

“Which means?” Dean prompted when the doctor paused to consider Sam’s monitor for a moment which recorded Sam’s stress-induced elevated heart rate. 

“It can cause issues with digestion and malnutrition,” he said.

“What do you do about it?” Mary asked. “More surgery?”

Doctor Franklyn shook his head. “No surgery can correct this. It can only be treated with lifestyle changes. If you have SBS, you may need nutrition given through a feeding tube instead of orally.”

Sam’s hands fisted convulsively in the sheet beneath him. “A tube!”

The doctor nodded solemnly. “It’s a possibility. A feeding tube is easy to manage with experience, and you can carry out most normal activities as you did before, but you will need to be more careful with things like contact sports.”

Mary sucked in a sharp breath and Sam leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. Castiel thought his eyes looked wet, but no tears fell. He understood Sam’s reaction. Contact sports weren’t an issue for Sam, but hunting was. If he did need this tube, he was limited to researching lore to help. He wouldn’t be able to actively hunt again. Hunting was what the Winchesters did. It was their legacy and lifestyle. They saved people. If Sam did need this additional help, he was going to have to give that up.

“Okay,” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s the worst case. What if he doesn’t need the tube, how does that work?”

“If you are able to tolerate oral nutrition, you will need a special diet,” he said. “You’ll need to eat little and often. Six meals a day at least, making sure they’re low carb and high fat and protein.”

Sam closed his eyes and Dean gripped his arm. “This is nothing, Sam,” he said forcefully. Yeah, it’ll suck to eat like that, but you can do it.”

“And if I need the tube?” Sam asked without opening his eyes.

“Then you can do that, too,” Dean said, though there was less certainty in his voice now.

“We won’t know anything straight away,” Doctor Franklyn said. “We will move you to the step-down unit today and tomorrow they will be able to introduce oral nutrition in a controlled environment. There is a chance that you will be able to tolerate it. Don’t think in absolutes.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

The doctor hooked the clipboard to the end of the bed and said, “I need to check in on some other patients. As soon as a bed is arranged, you’ll be moved.”

“Thanks,” Sam said dully.

The doctor excused himself and left, and for a moment the room was filled with silence that Dean broke with a curse, making them all look at him.

“I know this sucks, Sammy, but, man, you’re alive! We’re together and we can deal with whatever happens next. That’s big!”

“Yes,” Mary said. “Think, Sam, last week we didn’t have Dean and we had an archangel running free.”

“He’s still free,” Sam said.

“Without a vessel,” Mary said emphatically. “I know you’re upset, we all are, but you’re up and talking to us, and none of us knew if we were going to have that again. Let’s focus on what we do have, okay?”

Sam nodded and forced a smile for her. “Yeah. Okay. I guess we won’t know anything for a while anyway.”

“We won’t,” Dean said. “And it could be okay. He said might. Your stomach might be completely fine and you’ll be back to rabbit food in no time.”

Sam’s smile was more genuine this time, and Mary and Dean seemed appeased. Castiel understood what Sam was feeling as he had been in that position. If Sam couldn’t hunt, he would have to redefine himself and find a place in the world that worked for him. Castiel had been in that position when he lost his grace.

He was just grateful Sam was able to feel this sadness at all. He _was_ alive, he _was_ talking. Castiel didn’t know how, but it was happening, and he was going to just appreciate it as Mary had advised.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Chapter Twelve_ **

 

Sam was eating unappetizing eggs and wishing he could have a coffee to wash them down. He couldn’t even have water yet. He had to space liquids out between meals to prevent them upsetting his stomach, and caffeine was out of the question. Beside his plate of eggs was a banana that he was going to have to force down next, despite the fact he was sick of them. He was sick of eating so often, too; fitting six meals into a day meant he always seemed to be eating or digesting the last meal.

He knew how lucky he was that he didn’t need a feeding tube, but he wished there was more the grace could do to heal his gut. It could only repair what was there, though, not make more grow. According to the doctors and his family, he’d already had his miracle, and he had to remind himself to be grateful for what he had. He would at least be able to hunt when he was recovered fully.

The fear he’d felt when he’d thought he would have to stop had been like a sucker punch to his already tender stomach. Hunting was what he did; it was how he defined the years of his life since college. He’d had a year out with Amelia, and that had been great while it lasted, but he would be lying if he said it had been as good as being on the road, knowing he was saving lives. That year was a pleasant memory of something he’d never thought he would have after Jessica died, but a memory was all it was. It could never have been his life for much longer than he’d had it. Even if Dean hadn’t come back, if Don hadn’t been alive, Sam would have been drawn back into the life before long. He was a Winchester, a hunter.

And right now, hunting was more important than almost anything, the only exception being his family. Michael was out there, ready and willing to make the world in the image of the one he’d left behind. When Sam thought of that place, the millions that had died, he felt like an iron fist was clenching his heart. They needed to stop it, and for that, Sam needed to be out of this bed. He thought he would be able to make that happen soon if he was careful, but there were two people he needed to persuade. The doctors posed no threat, he could check out against their advice, but Dean and Mary weren’t going to be happy with his plan. He knew it was time, though, and there was another reason. The cops had visited that morning to get a statement about the attack on him, and Sam didn’t think they were convinced by his feigned amnesia of the event. He’d pretended ignorance of the story Dean and Mary had given them of him arriving at the motel hurt. He’d said he remembered nothing of the week preceding the injury at all, wanting to cover the fact it was almost healed when he arrived in the hospital. But he was sure they were going to be back with more questions, and they would have a harder time finding him if he was out of there.

Sam forked up another mouthful of eggs and grimaced.

“Are they that bad?” Castiel asked.

Sam swallowed and nodded. “You said food tastes like molecules to you now, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “It is not a pleasant experience.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s more pleasant than these eggs,” Sam said. “They’re cold now anyway.”

“But you should still eat them,” Castiel said, a clear imitation of the advice he’d heard Dean give many times before since Sam woke up.

Sam sighed, “Sure.”

He forced down the rest of his eggs and then pushed the plate away and said, “And I’m done.”

“The banana?” Castiel prompted.

Sam rubbed his stomach over the freshly scarred area where they’d operated and said, “I just need a minute to make sure the eggs are going to settle first.”

Castiel nodded understandingly and Sam fought a wince. He didn’t like to lie, but there were some things that were worth dishonesty.

He relaxed back against the pillows and thought longingly of the Impala. He wanted to be on the road, heading back to the bunker where they could plan their next step in fighting Michael. There were people there that needed him, like Jack and Nick. He had spoken to Jack on the phone each day since he’d woken up, and Jack’s concerned questions had troubled him. Sam thought he would feel better when they were actually together again and Jack could see Sam was okay.

And Nick needed him, too. Jack said he and Bobby were taking care of him, but Sam suspected that meant they were taking him his meals and arranging for him to clean himself up every few days at most. No one had been comfortable around Lucifer’s former vessel. Sam hadn’t spent that much time with him either, no more than necessary as he had been consumed with their mission to get Dean back, but now that was dealt with, he could offer Nick more. Nick had to need to talk about what had happened to him, and Sam was the only other person that knew what it was like to host Lucifer. As upsetting as it was for him to see what his memories presented to him as Lucifer’s face, the face of the creature that had tortured him, he could put it aside to help the man that had been his victim.

He pulled from his thoughts, aware of the careful scrutiny he was under, and he said, “Something wrong, Cas?”

“No,” Castiel said quickly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re staring again.”

Staring was a common occurrence for them all now. Sam understood it in Mary and Dean as they were still getting used to the fact Sam was okay now, but he suspected it was something more with Castiel. All he had to do was look to see that Sam was okay, not about to slip back into helpless unconsciousness, while Mary and Dean had to search for other reassurances.

He looked at Castiel and saw his furrowed brow and cautious eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

“I can’t tell,” Castiel said. “There is something different about you.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m awake and missing a big portion of gut.”

“No. It’s something different. I can see you healing.”

“That’s good, right? It’s the grace fixing me.”

“Yes…” Castiel said. “Perhaps.”

“What else could he be?” Sam asked.

“Nothing, I suppose,” Castiel said and then nodded. “Yes, nothing. It’s just strange for me to see my own grace in someone else for a prolonged time. Usually, healing is instant.”

“About that…” Sam clasped his hands in his lap and stared into Castiel’s eyes. “Thank you, Cas. If you hadn’t given me your grace, we never would have gotten Dean back. I’m sorry for what I did after, though, knocking you out and cuffing you to the table.”

“You wanted me to be safe. I understand. I felt the same. That was why I gave you the grace.”

“And I’m damn grateful for it. I could never have hurt Michael even a little without it. It was what got Dean back.”

“No, Castiel disagreed. “ _You_ got him back.”

“Because of the grace.”

He was more than grateful to Castiel for what he’d sacrificed for them. Having had his grace stolen from him by Metatron, it had to have been hard for him to give up so much willingly. He was never going to be able to pay Castiel back for that, though he would try.

“It also saved your life long enough for you to get to the hospital,” Castiel said seriously. “That is important.”

“Yeah, and it’s not stopped there,” Sam said. “I know what things would have looked like for me without it. Dean kept me alive, but the grace is what made me wake up. I heard enough from the doctors to know that probably wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”

“Yes,” Castiel said cautiously. “It did that, too.”

Sam frowned. “What’s going on? Don’t you think it was the grace?”

“No, I do,” Castiel said quickly.

Sam was sure there was something Castiel wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t push him to share. He thought perhaps he should, but he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know. He was alive, he was awake and he was healing. There was no demon deal to explain it, Dean swore it, and no one was going to suffer because of him, so he was going to accept the good for what it was and appreciate it.

They sat in companionable silence for a while before the door opened and Dean swept in. His hair was still damp from the shower, his clothes clean and his smile bright.

“Morning, Sammy. How are you doing?”

“I’m good.”

“You sleep okay?”

“Yes,” Sam said patiently, knowing the pattern of queries from the last mornings Dean had arrived and asked them. “And I ate. And I cleaned up without help. And, no, I’m still not shaving my beard.”

Dean sighed theatrically. “I am going to wear you down. That thing is coming off, even if I have to hold you down and shave you myself.”

Sam rubbed at his jaw. In truth, he wouldn’t mind losing the beard now. It hadn’t been a grooming choice to grow one; it was just that shaving had seemed unimportant when weighed against the priority of saving Dean. But he was enjoying this easy banter with Dean and he didn’t want it to end yet. He liked how normal it made him feel.

Dean flopped down into the comfortable sleeper chair beside the bed and said, “Mom’s getting us coffees. Well, me and her. You’re no caffeine guy and Castiel has that weird problem with food and drink now.”

“Molecules,” Castiel said. 

Dean waved a careless hand. “Like I said, the weird one.”

Castiel frowned at him and Sam grinned. He was pleased Dean was in a good mood, that he seemed relaxed after a night in a comfortable bed and shower, as he wanted to make his request and get a positive answer. He knew that, ultimately, it was his choice, but it would be easier on them all, Dean and Mary especially, if Sam could bring them around first.

“What’s the plan today?” Dean asked. “Poker, Guns and Ammo, a trip to the garden?”

“In a wheelchair and wrapped in a blanket?” Sam rolled his eyes. “No thanks. Actually, I was thinking we could do something else.”

“Yeah? What?”

Sam took a careful breath and said, “I want to get out of here. I want to discharge myself.”

He watched the play of emotions on Dean’s face, shock and the immediate urge to refuse replaced with consideration and then settling on caution.

“Why?”

“I’m ready,” Sam said. “All my medication is given orally now, I can eat normally—well, kinda normal—and my pain is managed. This gut thing is under control as long as I’m careful, and, honestly, this place is making me crazy.”

“The doctors don’t think you’re ready though, or they’d have released you already,” Dean said.

“They don’t know about the grace,” Sam pointed out. “They can’t know. All they can do is run the tests and wonder how it’s happening. Maybe they’re worried I’m going to slip back. We know better. I’ve got the grace healing me, I’ve got that connection with you as a safety net, and I’m a Winchester. Come on, Dean, you and I have walked worse than this off before now. I need this.”

Dean considered him for a moment and then said, “Okay, I get that you’re eating and the pain thing, but how’s your stomach behaving really?”

Sam snorted. “Dean, I am _not_ discussing my crap schedule with you.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, “You are if I’m backing you on this.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. No problems at all. We don’t even know if I have this thing anyway.”

“We don’t know you don’t have it either,” Castiel pointed out. “It could be the grace easing the passage for you. That won’t last forever. It will burn away over time.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Okay, first off, Cas, passage is the way wrong word in this conversation. Second, I know what I’m looking for if it’s going to become a problem. I’ll be careful about what I eat. I monitor myself.” He imitated Dean by crossing his arms over his chest and jutting out his chin. “I am ready to get out of here.”

Dean bit his lip and looked away for a long moment, and Sam held his breath. He thought he was winning this, he just needed Dean to come around a little more and he’d be out of there.

“Okay,” Dean said, fixing his intense gaze on Sam. “I’ll get all the information I can about what you need to eat and what you can’t from the doctors. I’ll work out the medication and supplements you need. I’ll find out what _I_ can do to monitor you, and then we’ll bust you out.”

Sam grinned and relaxed. “Awesome. You do all that and I’ll get changed into some real clothes.”

Dean shook his head and pointed at the tray in front of Sam. “No, you will eat your banana. When that’s gone, you can get changed. We’re not rushing this.” 

He got to his feet and started towards the door, stopping when it opened and Mary came in carrying two paper cups of coffee.

She looked from face to face and asked, “What’s going on?”

Sam knew the next challenge in his escape was coming, and he pasted on a smile and said, “Good news, Mom. I’m ready to get out of here…”

xXx

Sam moved stiffly as he got out of the Impala, and Dean eyed him carefully as he positioned himself at Sam’s side, ready to support him if he needed.

Sam managed to get himself upright, though, and walked the short distance to the door Castiel was holding open with slow movements.

Dean grabbed Sam’s paper bag of medications and supplements from the trunk, and his small overnight bag they’d taken him in the hospital, and then followed him in. Sam was sitting on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him and his back resting against the headboard, a pained frown on his face.

Dean had known he was going to be in pain, more than he was when just lying in the hospital bed all day as he had for the past week, but it still made him nervy.

“You want some painkillers?” he asked.

Sam shook his head. “It’ll be okay in a minute. I could do with a drink though.”

Castiel retrieved a bottle of water from the small refrigerator under the kitchenette counter and handed it to Sam who grinned and said, “The waiter here is great.”

“Everyone should have their own angel on call,” Dean agreed. “Bedside service and grace on hand to heal archangel blades to the gut.”

Castiel frowned. “Technically I wasn’t on hand. It was what was already there that helped. If I had been able to heal straight away, things would never have been this bad.”

“Take the compliment,” Dean said, checking his watch. “Not too much of that water, Sam. You’ve got to eat again soon.”

Sam looked at the almost full bottle of water with a sigh and screwed on the cap. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’ll go get you something,” Castiel said. “What would you like?”

“Club sandwich,” Sam said.

Dean snorted and said, “Too much bread. Try again.”

“Chicken salad,” Sam said hopefully. 

“Nope.” Dean considered for a moment, recalling the sample menu plan he’d seen in one of the pamphlets he’d been given at the hospital and then said, “Grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and whatever vegetables they have—as long as it’s not corn or kale. They’re big noes.”

“And a burger for you?” Castiel asked.

“Yep, extra onions.”

“Cholesterol, Dean,” Sam muttered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “My cholesterol is fine, thanks. Cas, make it extra fries, too.” When Sam scowled, he said, “I backed your play getting out of the hospital, going against _Mom_ , so you can quit with the bitchface. Though it’s kinda cute you think a heart attack is going to end it for us when there are chupacabras in the world.”

Sam laughed softly, “Yeah, because they’re quite the real threat.”

Dean shrugged. “They can be.”

Sam chuckled, “Yeah, sure. I’ll go with the chicken. And thank you for backing my play. I know she’s not happy about it but it was the right choice.”

Dean threw the waiting Castiel his wallet and nodded. “I guess it was. But I’m glad she’s heading home today. It will give her time to calm down while she’s dealing with the drama at home instead of here. By the time we get back, she’ll be fine.”

“I thought we were leaving tomorrow,” Sam said.

“That was before I saw your old man impression after the short-ass drive from the hospital. It’s hours’ worth of driving to get home, so we’re giving it a couple more days here and then we’ll take the ride in stages.”

Sam looked annoyed but a distraction came in the form of Castiel opening the door to leave and Mary sweeping in, her face set into a smile instead of the scowl she’d worn when she’d left the hospital.

“I’m heading out,” she said. “I’ll call from home, and you boys call me when you hit the road.”

“It’ll be a while,” Dean said. “We’re taking it slow coming back.”

Mary glanced at Sam. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just a little sore.”

Mary looked thoughtful for a moment and then she said, “Okay. You boys take care.” She hugged Dean tightly, cradling the back of his head, and then pulled back and cupped his cheek in her hands. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” Dean said.

Mary went to the bed and hugged Sam carefully, making sure he didn’t have to stretch too far to return the embrace. “And I’m glad you’re better,” she said to Sam, stroking his hair back from his face. “Keep getting better and I’ll stop worrying.”

“It’s a deal,” Sam said with a wide smile. 

She patted his cheek, touched Dean’s shoulder, and then slipped from the room. A moment later, Dean heard the engine of her car coming to life.

Dean pulled out a chair at the small table and sat down with a sigh. He felt better being out of the hospital, and now he could at least keep an eye on Sam all the time. He’d not been able to stay with him around the clock when he was moved to the general ward as they were less understanding about extended visiting, knowing that family members’ presence wasn’t as vital as it was for them on the ICU.

“How are you doing, Dean?” Sam asked.

“I’m fine,” Dean said automatically. “How about you?”

“You already know the answer to that, and we’re not talking about me. You’ve been through something awful. How are you _really_?”

Dean gave him an incredulous look. “I’m not the one that died a matter of days ago. I’m not in pain or struggling with this whole new diet and lifestyle. I’m not the one that needs to pop painkillers and vitamins every day.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam agreed. “You’re the one that was used as an evil archangel’s vessel. I know what that’s like. It’s okay to not be fine. What’s really going on with you?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t remember much past Michael taking over and then coming back in that place with you all bloody. What came after was worse.” He shuddered as he remembered the horror of that time with Sam clinging to life, dying in front of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

“I know you are,” Dean said. “And I know you couldn’t help it, but… man, Sammy, thinking I was losing you like that, because of what I did, that was brutal.”

“You didn’t do it,” Sam said firmly. “It was Michael, and you’re the one that saved my life. Cas’ grace is healing me, but you’re the one that kept me alive to do it.” He frowned. “I am glad to be alive and all, but this connection still worries me. These things always bite us in the ass. I can’t help but think of what might be coming. We’ve got enough to deal with Michael running free. We don’t need more.”

Dean rubbed his hands over his face. “I get that, but I really think it will be okay. It was Billie that set us up with it, and she wants something from us. I don’t see that being something we wouldn’t already be planning to do.”

“I’d feel better if I could talk to her about it,” Sam said.

Dean considered for a moment and then brightened. “We can’t talk to Billie, I doubt she’d be happy if we did a summoning on her, but we can ask Jessica.” He looked around the room, almost expecting her to be there already, waiting for them to ask, and said, “Jessica, are you still hanging around on babysitting duty?”

“Yes,” Jessica said.

Sam started and then winced, a hand to his stomach as Jessica appeared at the end of his bed.

“Hello, Dean,” she said. “Sam, you look better than the last time…” She stopped suddenly and frowned for a moment then her features smoothed and she said. “You look better.”

“What?” Sam asked. “What did you see?”

“Grace,” Jessica said. “It’s more prominent now than it was before. That’s all. It was unexpected.”

“That’s Cas,” Dean said easily. “It’s doing double time right now, fixing him up. Anyway, Sam needs some reassurance about this deal of ours.”

Jessica nodded and said, “What do you want to know, Sam?”

Sam straightened is back against the headboard and asked, “What does Billie want from us?”

“I don’t know. She only said you were necessary. I imagine she’s relying on you to pull the world out of the fire again regarding Michael. You have already faced a version of Michael and won once, and you expelled him from Dean, Sam. She could be banking on that.”

Dean held up a hand. “Sam’s not going anywhere near Michael next time. Last time almost killed him.”

Jessica frowned. “Sam would actually be in less danger if he went alone than if you went with him. It’s your life he’s tethered to. As long as you’re safe, Sam will live.”

“Live, yeah, but it’s the quality of that life that I’m thinking about.” He was remembering the doctor’s words when he had been listing all the ways Sam could have been damaged after his blood pressure tanked. There were other ways to lose a person than for them just to die.

“Dean,” Sam murmured, his voice soft and consoling.

“No! We’ll work the Michael problem out some other way. You’re not going after him again.”

“Then neither are you,” Sam said. “We just have to hope someone else can take him out without us.”

Dean looked at him, seeing the mulish expression and hard set of Sam’s eyes.  Sam was building up to argue, to force the issue, and Dean didn’t want Sam stressing himself more than he already was while he was healing.

“We’ll work something out,” he said.

“We’ll work something out together,” Sam stated. “We’ll face him together.”

There was no way Dean was letting Sam be hurt again, but he knew arguing now was going to do no good. He would face what was coming when he had to, and he would deal with Sam then too.

Before Sam could rally an argument, Castiel pushed open the door and came in carrying a paper sack. Dean quickly got to his feet and took the bag from him, glad of the distraction and said, “Thanks, Cas.” He took out the covered tray that held Sam’s dinner and a plate from the counter and began to dole out the small portion Sam would need to eat.

“Castiel,” Jessica said thoughtfully.

“Hello, Jessica,” Castiel said, sounding a little bewildered. “is everything okay?”

Jessica nodded. “It’s fine. I should go. If you need me, call.” She gave Castiel another appraising look and disappeared.

“What was that about?” Sam asked.

“I have no idea,” Castiel said.

“Never mind what it was,” Dean said, carrying the plate and a knife and fork to Sam. “Eat.”

Sam took it and rested it on his lap. “Awesome. Dollhouse portions.”

Dean carried his burger and fries to the table and sat down. “You got what you wanted, getting out of the hospital, so I get what I want, and that’s to eat my burger and watch you eat your _stomach health sized_ portions without you moaning.”

Sam nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, I know, and I really am grateful you helped me.”

“I know,” Dean said, unwrapping his burger and taking a bite and then speaking around a mouthful. “And once you’re back on your feet properly, I plan to use that gratitude to my fullest advantage. I’m not going near the laundry for at least a year.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Yeah, because you’re not at all fussy about how your shirts are ironed.”

“I’m not,” Dean lied.

Castiel looked from face to face, a smile creasing lines around his eyes, and Sam grinned. Dean felt the rightness of the moment. There were things to deal with still, an archangel to be stopped, but things were good. Sam was healing, Dean was himself again, and they were together.

There wasn’t much more that he asked for from life. 


	13. Chapter 13

When Jo had made her plan to hide within Sam, she hadn’t given much thought to how it would feel to be a passenger. Even if she had, she would have been sure she could handle it. She had spent eons in Heaven pressing a button as souls entered, and that had taught her ways of entertaining herself with simple things, but that was before she experienced what it was to have a full life.

After the fall, her life seemed to snap into technicolor. There were choices to be made, people to speak to, endless things she could do with her time. She had loved it. Now she was trapped inside Sam, seeing and feeling nothing but the ruined condition of his body and the monotony of his days, and she was bored. She had Sam’s mind to search, too, but she stopped doing that quickly as what she found there was a freak show. He had suffered awfully in life and death, been through agonies, both emotionally and physically, and they were all there. The memories of Lucifer and the Cage were the very worst. What Michael had done when he stabbed him barely registered with Sam. It was Lucifer’s torture he remembered most clearly.

The only time she had any form of escape was when Sam was sleeping. She had lain in the hospital, pretending to sleep when nurses came in to check on him, and the rest of the time just experiencing the sensation of the sheet that covered her, the feel of her face pressed against the pillow, the noises of the hospital, while Sam’s mind and body rested. Even that was gone now he was in the motel. The only sensations were the rough blanket covering her and the flat pillow under her head, the only sounds traffic and Dean’s quiet snores. No one came in to check on him at all. There was nothing worth paying attention to anymore.

It would have been slightly better if she could be on the surface, really being a part of what was happening when Sam was awake, but if she did not hide deep, Castiel would see her and it would all be over for her—and for Sam.

The only thing she could do while hiding was concentrate on keeping Sam’s body going, attempting to heal what she could and maintaining his mind, warding off complications. Without her, Sam would be a wreck, and she did want to help him; she just wanted to help herself more. 

Dean rolled over and Jo felt Sam stir in his mind, coming close to wakefulness. Jo soothed him back into sleep with a feather touch of grace, and he rested peacefully again. Jo relaxed and allowed her mind to wander. She wondered what had happened to her former vessel. Had she found her husband again? What had their reunion been like? Was it as loving and joyful as she’d imagined? It should have been. There hadn’t been much joy for the couple in the year leading up to Jo’s possession. He had been sick, slowly dying, and the vessel had been tending to him with ever decreasing hope of a miracle.

She allowed her mind to picture it, the vibrantly healthy man the husband had been after Jo healed him and her vessel’s happiness in freedom at last.

She was so lost in the vision that she didn’t register the arrival in the room. It wasn’t until she heard the voice that she froze within Sam and registered the danger.

“Hello, Anael.”

Jo started to withdraw into Sam, to go unnoticed, but the voice spoke again and she knew it was futile.

“There’s no point hiding. I know you’re there.”

Jo opened her eyes and sat up. A reaper stood at the end of the bed, her hands clasped over her stomach and her eyes amused.

“Jessica,” she said, recognizing the true face that she had seen millennia ago in Heaven.

Jessica nodded. “I wondered if you’d remember.”

Jo bit her lip. “How did you know?”

“I came to see Sam and Dean earlier, and I saw you in there.”

“But I was hiding.”

Jessica chuckled softly. “Souls are my life. I saw your grace wrapped around his like a blanket over his shoulders.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “In my many years of existence, I’ve never seen something so damaged as his soul.”

“It was Lucifer. He had Sam in the Cage for almost two hundred years. He was…” She grappled for the right word and settled on the most extreme understatement. “He was cruel.”

“I heard the stories,” Jessica said. “Why are you here, Anael?”

“They call me Jo now.”

“Okay, _Jo_ , what are you doing in Sam’s Winchester?”

“Saving his life.”

Jessica smirked. “I already did that, so what are you really doing?”

Jo frowned. “What do you mean you saved him? He was a wreck when I saw him.”

“I couldn’t heal. I just made it so he won’t die alone. I linked his lifeforce to Dean’s. While Dean lives, so does Sam. It was the only option available to me.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not needed. Sam will live without you. You can leave now.”

Jo leapt to her feet without thought and advanced on the reaper who was laughing softly.

“I can’t!” she said.

“No, I didn’t think you would be able to,” Jessica said. “What are you afraid of, Jo?”

Jo closed her eyes and whispered, “Michael. I’ve already seen him once, and I think he will come back for me when his other plans are in action. There are so few angels left, and the others have all sealed themselves in Heaven. He will want me.”

Jessica nodded. “I imagine he will.”

“I want to help Sam, too,” Jo rushed on. “He needs help. When I saw him, he was so damaged; he was a wreck. He would never have woken up without me.”

“And you want him functioning to continue the Winchesters’ legacy of beating the odds and saving the world. I see.”

Jo shook her head. “It’s more than that.”

“It really isn’t,” Jessica said shrewdly. “You can lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to me.”

Jo heard a noise outside the door and she stiffened.

“If you do not want to be seen, you should go,” Jessica said.

Jo took a step back towards the bed but the door was already opening and Castiel was peering in. “Sam, are you…” His eyes fell on Jo and they widened. “Jo!”

Jo closed her eyes and cursed. She had a feeling that, unless she was very careful how she handled this, it was all over.

xXx

Dean had given Castiel a key to his and Sam’s room in case of emergency, a tool to help him sleep at night when he couldn’t watch over Sam himself. Castiel had never planned to use it, but he was reading in his room when he heard Sam’s voice rumble through the wall and it sounded stressed, almost pained. There was no choice of whether or not to investigate. It was an instinctual reaction. He fled his room and let himself into theirs, trying to prepare himself for many possible outcomes. 

He had never prepared himself for this.

Jessica stood at the end of Sam’s bed, and Sam was standing beside it, looking poised for attack, but it wasn’t really Sam; it was Jo, and she looked scared.

“Sam, are you…” His half-formed question trailed away as his eyes widened. “Jo!”

Jo’s face fell and a look of defeat came into her face as she closed her eyes. “Hello, Castiel.”

For a moment, Castiel just gaped at her. He couldn’t understand how this could have happened. How could Dean make this choice again? How could he do that to Sam after what happened last time and what it had done to the bond he shared with his brother. It had almost severed it completely.

Castiel thought that, if not for Dean’s untimely death at Metatron’s hands, it would have ended between them within a matter of weeks. He thought Dean knew that, too, which made it all the more mind-boggling that he would do it a second time.

He glanced at his sleeping friend and said, “Why, Dean?”

Jessica looked at Jo and said, “I think it’s time for you to explain, Jo. I will leave you to your conversation.” She disappeared without a sound and Jo’s eyes moved from the place she had been to the carpeted floor.

“What happened?” Castiel asked.

He didn’t understand how Dean could do it, and he didn’t understand why. Dean hadn’t known the real truth of Sam’s condition and Castiel’s limitations. He had thought Castiel could have saved him from the fate they feared. He’d not known there was nothing Castiel could have done as he was. He didn’t even know for sure whether he could have done it from inside Sam. The damage was so extreme.

“Dean prayed,” Jo said. “I came and when I saw what had happened, I needed to help. I had no choice. Sam was ruined. You have to have seen that.” She raised her head and looked into Castiel’s eyes. “What else could I do but this?”

“Perhaps, but Dean…” Castiel sighed. “Do you know what happened last time Dean did this?”

“I heard about Gadreel, but this is different. I will never hurt anyone, I just want to help them, to help you all.” She bit her lip. “And Dean didn’t know. I told him there was nothing I could do and left him. I planned to leave, but I couldn’t get the sight of Sam’s mind out of my head. I had to do something, Castiel. I snuck back in when Dean and Mary were sleeping and spoke to Sam.”

“And Sam said yes?”

Castiel was incredulous. Sam would have been even more unwilling than Dean to do this. Castiel knew how tortured he was by what had happened to Kevin. He confided in Castiel once that he still dreamed of it. No matter how dire his situation, Sam would not have risked the life of someone else he loved to save himself. 

“He did when I explained what was going to happen to him,” Jo said. “And he knew what would happen to Dean if he didn’t let me in. He knows better than we ever could the bond between them. Castiel, can you imagine what Dean would have done if Sam had stayed trapped like that, a vegetable?”

Castiel didn’t need to imagine. He already knew it as fact. Dean would have ended himself to save Sam. He would have gone to Michael, found a way to defeat him, and then killed himself in order to let Sam have peace.

“I know exactly what he would have done,” Castiel said. “But it’s still hard for me to imagine Sam doing this again, letting the idea even last a minute, let alone the days it has been.”

“He doesn’t know,” Jo said, a guilty admission. “I wiped what happened from his mind. I couldn’t risk him expelling me before it was time. I am doing everything I can to heal him as fast as I can, but there is so much to do. If Sam faltered for even a second, if he cast me out, he would go back to being that ruined man in an instant. He would die without the machines that sustained him.”

“He wouldn’t die,” Castiel said. “He and Dean are connected now. Jessica did it.”

Jo looked confused but Castiel wasn’t entirely sure he believed it was genuine. “I didn’t know. It doesn’t change things though. Without me, there would be nothing left of Sam again. I am saving him. You can’t tell him, Castiel.”

Castiel’s heart lurched, “I can’t _not_ tell him. Sam needs to know.”

Jo frowned. “Don’t you love him?”

“Of course I do. The Winchesters are my family.”

“Then don’t you want Sam living properly instead of trapped inside his body again, unable to experience anything at all?”

Castiel turned away. He didn’t want that to happen to Sam again, he would rather die himself than let any of the Winchesters suffer that fate, but Sam trusted him. Hiding this would be the greatest of all the many lies he had ever told. Sam would see it as an even greater betrayal than destroying the wall in his mind and letting his hell flood him.

“It’s up to you, Castiel,” Jo said. “I won’t take responsibility for it anymore. You can tell Sam I am here, watch him expel me and ruin himself, or you can hide it to save him. What do you want to do?”

What Castiel wanted was for this to never have happened at all. He wanted Sam living and healthy alone. He didn’t want the responsibility Jo had forced upon him. He wished for the happy oblivion of a miracle again.

Before he could form an answer, before he even had a chance to decide, Dean rolled over and opened his eyes. He looked from Sam to Castiel and frowned. “What’s going on? You okay, Sammy?”

Castiel’s eyes snapped to Sam and he saw his friend clearly again. Jo had withdrawn deep into him, concealing herself from Castiel’s sight.

“I don’t know…” Sam said vaguely, his eyes moving around the room. “Something must have woken me up. I don’t remember.”

“You said you wanted water,” Castiel invented wildly to give himself a moment to think.

Sam shrugged. “Oh. Okay. I guess I did.” He walked to the fridge and took out a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and took a few careful sips and then screwed on the cap and put it back in the fridge. 

Dean nodded and said, “And what are you doing in here, Cas? We booked you a room for a reason.”

“I thought I heard you talking,” Castiel said, a weight dropping into his stomach. “I thought I should check. I was wrong. My senses are not as honed without my full grace.” He wanted to turn away and hide his face, but he forced himself to look at Sam, see the man he was betraying as he said, “You should get more sleep, Sam. You’re still healing.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “And you should go back to your own room, Cas. You know it’s weird for us to sleep when you’re watching,”

Castiel nodded and walked to the door. “I will see you in the morning,” he said before slipping from the room.

He heard murmured goodbyes before the door closed behind him and he thumped his head against the stucco wall of the motel. He felt sickened and furious with himself, but also helpless. He had not made a choice as there had been none to make when it came down to it. Sam had to live, to be himself, and Castiel had to lie and hide Jo’s presence from him. He had to betray them both.

He hated what he had been forced to do, but there was no other option. He understood now how Dean had felt when he’d made his deal with Gadreel to save Sam. When it came to people you loved, you would do anything.

That didn’t make him less of a monster though. He would have to look Sam in the eye in the weeks—months perhaps—to come and pretend it was just his friend he was seeing, to search Sam’s eyes for the second awareness that lived inside.

He was going to have to lie to himself, too.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean pulled the Impala to a halt outside the bunker and grinned, “Honey, we’re home.”

Sam laughed. “Thanks, dear. What time is dinner?”

Dean grimaced. “That sounded way less weird in my head. And for you, dinner is as soon as we can make you something. You’ve not had enough today. You feel okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Sam opened the door, climbing carefully out to escape Dean’s concerned follow-up questions. Honestly, he felt full. He always felt full. The meals he ate were small, almost tiny even, but there were so damn many of them that he felt like he was constantly recovering from Thanksgiving Dinner. What he wanted was to eat a light salad and enjoy a tall glass of icy cold water and then quit eating for the day.

His stomach pulled painfully as he straightened up, but he schooled his expression so it didn’t show and alert Dean to the pain as he and Castiel climbed out on the other side and eyed him. Dean didn’t speak though, perhaps seeing that Sam wasn’t eagerly accepting his mother hen routine.

Sam understood it and did his best to accept it, reminding himself that he would be worse if the roles were reversed, but that only covered so much annoyance. He hoped that now they were home and there was more for Dean to think about than just Sam’s condition, he would ease up a little and get things done, things that mattered far more than Sam’s sensitive stomach.

Dean opened the door and Sam walked inside after him and made careful progress down the stairs into the map room. It was empty, but Sam could hear voices coming into the library. Dean reached the bottom first and he called, “We’re home!”

The voices died away and Jack appeared. He beamed at them and then rushed at Dean and lifted him into the air with the force of his hug, making Dean huff out a breath. It was funny to see Jack, who looked like a kid still, lifting Dean with ease, and Sam chuckled.

“Dean!” Jack said happily. “You’re back!”

Dean patted his back and said, “Easy, big fella. You’re going to crack a rib.”

Jack dropped him, making Dean rock back on his heels, and apologized then came to Sam who was holding the stair rail to steady himself. It was clear Jack was being careful when he hugged Sam, but it was still tight enough to hurt Sam’s stomach and constrict his breaths for a moment before Dean laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder and said, “Go _really_ easy with him, Jack. He’s still healing.”

Jack dropped his arms and stepped back. “Sorry,” he said, his face repentant. “It’s just so good to see you both.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Sam said. “And it looks like you’re getting some of your strength back.”

Jack nodded eagerly. “I am. It feels more physical right now, but there this… sense of something else. What Lucifer took from me is coming back on its own.”

“Then it wasn’t gone completely,” Dean said. “When Metatron took Cas’ grace, it was completely wiped. He was all human.”

Sam looked up and smiled as Mary came in and greeted them.

“There is something I need to do,” Castiel murmured, walking through to the library, his footsteps quickly disappearing.

“What’s wrong with Castiel?” Jack asked, his brow furrowing.

“That’s a good question,” Dean said. “And we’ve got no idea. He’s been weird the whole ride back.”

“Did something happen after I left?” Mary asked.

“Not that I can think of,” Dean said. “Sammy?”

“Nothing.”

He had noticed it the first morning he woke in the motel. Castiel was eager to help still, more eager maybe. When something needed to be done that would get him away from them, like pick up food, he would volunteer eagerly and take off before they could do more than give him their orders and Dean’s wallet. When they stopped for the nights in motels along the way, he would go to his room early instead of hanging out with them. He excused himself saying he wanted to monitor angel radio to see if he could sense anything from Michael. It was a good excuse, but Sam thought that was all it was—an excuse. Something was wrong with their friend, and Sam thought it was time for them to sit him down and find out what it was.

“Come sit down,” Mary said. “I’ve made soup for you both, well it’s more of a broth really. I thought it would be good. I found the recipe online.”

Dean grimaced. “Awesome. Soup.”

“You don’t have to eat it,” Sam said, knowing whose diet Mary had been thinking of when she found the recipe. She wasn’t a cook by nature, and the fact that she had gone to the trouble touched Sam.

Dean cast him a sideways glance and said, “I’ll have some later. I need a shower. I feel like I’m wearing the road.”

He strolled out of the room, faster than was really necessary, and Sam supposed he was eager to escape the soup.

They went to the kitchen and Sam sat down at the table, Jack opposite him, and nodded gratefully when Mary set a small bowl in front of him. It was definitely more of a broth than a soup, small pieces of chicken and vegetables floated in brownish stock. Sam spooned up a mouthful and was surprised that it was better than it looked.

“It’s good, Mom. Thanks.”

She beamed and sat down beside Jack. “So, how are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Sam said. “A little sore, kinda tired, but otherwise I feel like me.” Mary’s brow furrowed and he forestalled her concerned questions. “I don’t need painkillers and I will rest when I’m done. I want to see Nick, too. How’s he doing?”

“You talking about our dungeon guest?” Bobby asked, striding into the room and acknowledging Sam with a nod. “He’s quiet and creepy.”

Sam frowned. He didn’t think it would be as big a problem for Bobby to be around Lucifer as he didn’t have trauma associated with him the way the rest of them did.

“Creepy?” he asked.

Bobby poured himself a coffee and then sat down beside Sam. “Yeah, creepy. Part of it is the quiet thing, he hardly talks at all, the other is knowing what he was. I never saw Lucifer in our world, the battle started and ended pretty quick but the destruction made him almost as much of a boogeyman to us as Michael. The fact that man let that monster in, _was_ him, makes it hard to look him in the eye.”

“He had his reasons for letting him in,” Sam said. “I did.”

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. “But they were very different reasons. You were saving the world. What was Nick doing?”

Sam shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t want them knowing that Nick had chosen to let Lucifer in as a form of revenge. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.

Bobby rubbed a hand through his beard. “Rowena has joined Charlie on her trip. We get the occasional call and it sounds like they’re having a good time. My people are in town, living out of the motel. Ketch is looking into renting or buying some houses for them to use. The motel is expensive and none of them are in a position yet to start thinking about jobs or ways to fund themselves.”

“So Ketch is paying for it?” Sam asked. He never thought of Ketch as being a philanthropist.

Mary cast Bobby a wary look and said, “Actually, the Men of Letters are paying for it. Apparently, the bunker comes with a hefty vault, too. He’s been selling stuff to get the money together.”

“We think it’s gold,” Jack said. “He’s very secretive about it.”

Sam lowered his spoon that he had been bringing to his mouth and said, “We have a stash of gold and no one thought to tell us?” He shook his head. “Do me a favor, don’t tell Dean. I don’t want him to shoot Ketch. It sounds like he’s been helpful.”

Mary smiled. “We won’t tell him. Though I suppose we should have figured it out ourselves. The Brits weren’t exactly saving the world on a budget.”

“True,” Sam said. “I’ll talk to Ketch when he’s here next, see if we can get the code out of him for the safe. If not, Dean can crack it. He’s pretty much a genius with stuff like that.”

Mary looked surprised but also proud. There were so many things about them, their lives together and the things they’d done, that she didn’t know, and Sam realized it must be hard for her to be playing catchup all the time. There never seemed to be time to sit her down and give her a history lesson though. She knew more about John’s life than theirs as she had read his journal. Mentions of his sons were few and far between in that, and he’d only been there for the beginning of it all.

“Ketch _has_ been helpful,” Bobby said. “He’s training some of my people to hunt. They’re battle-hardened, but actual combat was never really a thing for us after the first wave of the war. If you were caught by the angels, you had two choices: escape or die. And only one of them was a likely outcome. Only a few of us had weapons like I had the angel blade bullets. Most of what we did was trying to stop the monsters that were left and rabid and trying to survive.”

Mary and Jack nodded solemnly, and Sam realized Mary wasn’t the only one missing parts of their history. Sam and Dean knew very little about that other world and what had happened there. Jack and Mary had been there for months and they must have seen a lot that they’d not spoken about. When there was time, when they were all together, they could talk about some of those things.

“Any news on Michael?” Sam asked.

“None,” Bobby said dourly. “We’re looking, but there’s not been a flicker. We’re not sure if he’s still circling another vessel after losing your brother or if he just knows how to stay under our radar.”

Jack leaned forward and asked, “What was it like to fight him, Sam?”

Sam swallowed the last mouthful of his soup and said, “It wasn’t really much of a fight, Jack. It was more me getting my ass handed to me.”

“But you made him bleed,” Jack said.

“That was more luck than skill,” Sam said. “And getting my own blood wasn’t a problem as he had me spilling plenty of it.” Mary winced and Sam shot her an apologetic smile. “It really was luck when it comes down to it. If Michael hadn’t gone for the hurt instead of the kill, I’d be dead. He went for a gut wound instead of the heart. Without that, it’d have been over.”

Mary held up a hand to silence him and said, “But it’s over now. You’re healing and Dean is back.”

“He is,” Sam said, his relief obvious.

“How is he?” she asked.

Sam considered, wary of how much to say in front of Bobby. “He _says_ he’s okay.”

Bobby looked between Mary and Sam and then got to his feet. “I think I’ll leave you to talk,” he said. “I’ll make a run into town and see how everyone is doing with Ketch. They’re probably in that old warehouse again.”

“Okay,” Mary said.

Bobby raised a hand in farewell and then strode out of the room.

Mary waited a minute and then said, “How is he really?”

Sam pushed away his bowl and said, “Honestly, I don’t know. He’s pretty laser-focused on me right now, but I think at least half of that is him distracting himself. He says he doesn’t remember any of it…”

“But,” Mary prompted.

“But he said that last time, too,” Sam said quietly. “After Hell.”

Jack frowned and Mary started to ask a question, but footsteps approached and they fell into expectant silence as Dean came in, his face flushed and his hair damp from the shower. He went straight to the counter to pour himself a coffee then took Bobby’s vacated seat.

“You eaten?” he asked, then went on without waiting for an answer. “Good. Since we’re all together and not on life support, I’ve got something to show you.”

He slid his shirt from his shoulders and turned so his right upper arm was exposed.

“What the hell is that?” Sam asked, staring at the bold red scar on Dean’s arm. It was actually two scars, close together and perfectly straight.

“What happened to you?” Mary asked.

“Not me,” Dean said. “Michael. This wasn’t there when I said yes, but it was when he was gone. I don’t remember getting it, but we need to know where and when I did. It means there’s something out there that can hurt him.”

“Yes!” Jack said, his expression alive with excitement.

“How do we find out though?” Mary asked, her hand pressed to her throat.

“We need Cas,” Dean said. “Let’s go track him down.”

Sam was out of his seat and halfway to the library before he even registered the pain in his stomach from the fast pace. He forced himself to slow down and allow himself to take a moment to recover.

Dean was ahead of him, shouting for Castiel, and when they got to the library, the angel was there with Bobby who was pulling on his jacket.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked.

“This,” Dean said, setting down his mug of coffee and showing Castiel the scar. 

“Whoa,” Bobby said, coming closer for a better look. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “But it was Michael that was hurt, not me.” Bobby was vocalizing his shock but Dean went on, addressing Castiel. “I need you to dislodge the memory the way you did Donatello’s.”

“Wait!” Sam said, holding up his hands. “Donatello is braindead because of what Cas did to him. We’re not doing that for anything.”

Dean ignored him and said, “Can you do it without frying me, Cas?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “It was stripping him of the resistance that damaged Donatello. You will be giving me the memory. I won’t have to use force.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, pulling out a chair and sitting with his hands pressed flat on the tabletop. “Go ahead.”

“No, Cas!” Sam said harshly as Castiel moved towards Dean. “We’re not risking it.”

Sam expected anger from Dean, but what he got was a smug smile. “Okay, Sammy, we won’t do it if you can tell me, _honestly,_ that no one resisted when you did that spell to come after Michael to get me back. Was everyone completely supportive?”

Sam bit his lip, not wanting to admit the resistance Mary and Castiel had put up, and Dean grinned.

“Thought so. We’re doing it.”

“Mom,” Sam said imploringly. “Help me out here. This is a bad idea.”

Mary looked torn. Her eyes moved between her sons and then to Castiel. “Can you promise to do this without hurting him?”

“It will hurt,” Castiel said. “But it will not damage him. At the first sign of resistance, I will stop and withdraw.”

“There won’t be resistance,” Dean said confidently. “I want this out of my head.”

“Do you swear, Castiel?” Mary asked and Castiel nodded. “Then I think we have to do it, Sam. If Dean will be safe, there’s no reason not to really.”

“Castiel isn’t always the best judge,” Sam said, remembering Crowley, the mission to open Purgatory, Castiel’s stint as God, and the Leviathans.

“You’re right,” Castiel said, staring Sam in the eye. “I am often not sure if I am doing the right thing, I make terrible mistakes, but I know my power and know what I am capable of. Dean will be safe.”

“Enough hanging around,” Dean said. “Let’s get it done.”

Castiel stepped up behind Dean and Sam moved closer, ready to intervene if he thought there was even the slightest sign of something going wrong for his brother.

“Do not touch me when I am doing this,” Castiel said seriously. “It will take something from you, too, and that could be dangerous. You will resist me. And you are…” He hesitated.

“I am what?” Sam asked.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Castiel said then, before Sam could say anything else, he pressed his hands to the sides of Dean’s head and said, “Brace yourself,” before closing his eyes and furrowing his brow with concentration.

Sam watched carefully, his hands twitching at his sides when Dean groaned. Out of nowhere, Sam’s head exploded with agony and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself making a sound of pain. For a moment, he felt like his skull was being crushed, and he felt the genuine terror that there was something seriously wrong, and then the pain ceased and he heard someone drawing panting breaths and his attention snapped back to his surroundings and his brother.

“Did it work?” Mary asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Did you see, Dean?”

Dean rubbed his temples and said, “Man, yeah I did.” He looked at Sam. “It was the Nazgul-looking thing that killed Kaia and tried to serve us up to Godzilla in that other world we got stuck in when we first went for Mom. You remember that spear thing she had?”

“Yeah…” Sam said, picturing the two wicked blades at the tip of the spear and comparing them to the scar of Dean’s arm. That was the exact kind of wound it would leave behind.

“Does that mean Michael was in the Bad Place?” Jack asked.

“No,” Dean said. “It means that thing is over here. He laughed harshly. “And Michael was scared of it.”

“Michael was scared?” Bobby said incredulously.

“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice awed. “He was not expecting it to do anything at all.” He slapped his hand down on the table. “This is what we need!”

“We also need to call Jody,” Sam said. “If Kaia’s killer is back, she needs to know. It might come for Claire again.”

Dean pulled out his phone and dialed a number and then hit speaker and set the phone down on the table.

It rang three times and then Jody’s confused voice spoke, _“Dean? Is that really you?”_

“Yeah, it’s me,” Dean said.

  _“And the fact you could be Michael saying you’re Dean…”_

“It’s really him,” Sam said. “We got him back.”

 _“Oh, thank God,”_ Jody whispered and then spoke louder. _“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”_

“Not me,” Dean said, “Sam was hurt—”

Sam cut him off. “But I’m fine now. Look, Jody, we’ve got a problem. The thing that killed Kaia is here.”

 _“Here where?”_ Jody asked.

“Don’t know,” Dean said. “But it has this big-ass spear that it stabbed Michael in the arm with. Have you seen anyone or anything with a weapon like this?”

 _“A spear?”_ Jody asked doubtfully. _“_ _No, nothing like that. I’ll keep an eye out though. What does it look like?”_

“It’s big and has two blades,” Dean said. “Leaves a pretty nasty scar.

Jody gasped. _“Like a giant meat fork kinda scar?”_

“Yeah,” Dean said. “You’ve seen something.”

_“You could say that. Look, I think you boys should get yourselves here fast. I’ll get some stuff ready for you to see.”_

“You’ve seen the spear?” Sam asked,

_“I’ve seen something.”_

“Okay,” Dean said. “We’re leaving now.”

Jody ended the call and Dean tucked the phone back in his pocket. “Okay,” he said. “Mom, Cas, you’re coming with me.”

Mary and Castiel nodded.

“I’m coming, too,” Sam said.

Dean got to his feet and shot Sam an incredulous look. “No, you’re not. You’re resting and healing.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but Mary spoke over him. “I know you want to help, Sam, but you are already tired and in pain. It’s a long drive to Sioux Falls. We’re just going to talk to Jody. You don’t need to be there for that. Stay home, rest and recover, so when we really need you, you’ll be ready.”

Dean nodded solemnly and Sam sighed. He had no good argument or explanation for why it mattered so much to him to go. He wasn’t just recovering from his wounds, he was also still reeling from the headache that had come and gone so quickly but potently.

“Okay, fine,” he said, sounding—despite the fact he knew he had to stay—like a moody teen grounded on prom night to his own ears. “I’ll stay.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Get some sleep. We’ll call.”

“Sure. Okay.”

Sam returned Mary’s quick hug and headed to his bedroom. He was tired and thought a few hours of sleep would do him a lot of good, but he still felt the pang of being left behind. He wished he was healed already so he could be an asset to this job. All that could help him now was rest and time, and that was just what he was going to struggle with.

Human paced healing sucked.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Chapter Fifteen_ **

 

Dean pulled the Impala to a stop outside Sioux Falls PD and got out and headed to the double doors that opened into the station, Mary and Castiel falling in behind him.

He pushed open the doors and greeted the young lady sitting behind the desk. He recognized her from previous visits, but he couldn’t remember her name. Sam was always better at things like that than him; he had some kind of crazy good memory recall.

“Hey,” he said, “We’re here to see the Sheriff.”

“Of course, Agent,” she said, clearly remembering him, too. “She’s in her office. Would you like me to call through to let her know you’re here?”

“No need,” Dean said. “We know the way.”

Dean pushed open the swinging gate and made his way through the busy area of desks and telephones to the back of the long room and Jody’s office. He knocked and entered at her called invitation.

Jody was sitting behind the desk, her pen poised to write on a form in a manila folder, but as her eyes fell on Dean, she dropped the pen and got quickly to her feet and circled the desk.

“Dean!” she said with genuine joy. “It’s so good to see you.” She hugged him tightly, and Dean returned the embrace, a little uncomfortable with her exuberance but pleased, too.

She released him and greeted Mary then said, “And this has got to be Castiel. I’ve heard a lot about you. The boys talk, and Claire told me some stuff, too.”

Castiel shifted from foot to foot. “Yes, Claire… You look after her.”

Jody laughed softly. “I do my best. I sometimes feel like it’s the other way around.” She eyed him a moment and said, “You don’t have to worry. Most of what she tells me is good. Now, Dean, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Dean said tersely, He was sick of the question. Mary had been quizzing him on the ride about how he was _really_ doing, and Castiel had joined in. He wished people would just let it go. He was fine.

Jody held up her hands. “Okay, take it easy. I’m only asking.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’ve just been getting that question a lot.”

She nodded but Dean had a feeling that the question was going to come back at him from Jody soon. “Some pretty crazy stuff has been happening according to your mom,” she said. “She tells me that Bobby is back, too.”

“In a way,” Dean said. “He’s technically Bobby, looks like him, talks like him, is a damn hero, but in other ways, he’s so different to our Bobby.”

The most pressing way, the part Dean noticed most, was the absence of connection with him. He looked at Bobby sometimes, expecting to see the bond there, the way his surrogate father had shown, but there was nothing there. Bobby was glad Dean was back, but that was because it gave them the advantage of another hunter and the fact Michael had lost his perfect vessel. And there was the lack of reaction when Sam had returned. Bobby would have been worried about him, would probably have camped out at the hospital with them, but all Dean saw was the pinch of disappointment in his brow that their fighter was on R&R for a while. That was where it was wrong.

“He’s a good man,” Mary interjected.

“I bet he is.” Jody clapped her hands together. “Okay, let’s get to it. Come with me.”

They followed her into an anteroom where there was a pinboard set up with photographs. Dean walked closer to them and examined them, his stomach tightening with tension. They all bore wounds like the one on his arm would have been before it healed. They were also headless.

“And you’ve found three of them?” he asked, counting the images.

“Yes. We thought it was some kind of especially twisted serial killer, but if it’s the thing that killed Kaia, we’ve got a bigger problem.

“Yeah, we really have. That thing was bad, and strong, she took me and Sam out and tried to feed us to Godzilla.”

“Is there no sign of the heads?” Castiel asked.

“None. We figured they were kept as trophies. I’m still thinking that, to be honest. And you think it was some kind of spear?”

Dean shrugged his shirt off and showed her his arm before pulling it back on and buttoning it. “Cas plucked the memories out of my head. This wound was Michael’s, and it was definitely the same weapon we saw in The Bad Place.”

Jody hissed between her teeth. “Okay, that’s me out of my depth.”

“We’re all out of our depth,” Mary said. “But we’ve got to go after it anyway. If this thing can hurt Michael, we need it.”

“And it was Kaia’s killer?”

“Same build, same hood and cloak, same speed. I think it’s got to be,” Dean said. “Have you seen any activity around the rift spot?”

“No, none, and Claire was watching it pretty close.” She ran a hand through her short hair. “How the hell am I going to tell Claire about this?”

Castiel frowned. “Why Claire?”

Jody smiled sadly. “She and Kaia had a pretty intense connection. First love runs hard and fast. She was pretty wrecked after Kaia died; she still is really. If she knows it’s here, she’s going to be gunning for it as hard as you are.”

Dean shrugged. “Don’t tell her then.”

Jody huffed a laugh. “When was the last time you saw hiding stuff from people you love working out well?”

“I get your point,” Dean said as Mary nodded vigorously and Castiel fixed his attention on the crime scene photographs, his lip caught between his teeth. “She’s going to have to hang back at least until we get the spear though,” he went on. “As much as I want Claire to get her revenge, I want Michael stopped more.”

“Agreed,” Jody said. “Are we heading out? I figure we should start at the area around the crime scenes and spread out from there.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Lead the way.”

xXx

Dean knew the area the bodies had been found at once as the grass was trampled by many feet and the mud stirred up by tire tracks. They looked around and then Mary suggested they pick a direction and spread out.

“Not too far,” Dean said. “Stay close enough to hear a gunshot and be careful. I’ll stick with Jody.”

He knew Mary would be safer with Castiel, even with him at half-power, than she would be with anyone else, and he had come close enough to losing one of his family lately to not be willing to risk losing another.

Mary nodded and checked the machete hanging at her hip and pulled out her gun. They had all agreed to go loaded with silver bullets, knowing they were just as effective at hurting something as regular bullets, even if they didn’t have a weakness for silver. She patted Dean’s arm and then headed into the trees to the right. Castiel turned and gave Dean a significant look and nod before falling into step at her side. Confident that Castiel was going to take care of her, Dean pulled his own gun and lead Jody along the trail into the trees. 

They had walked a few minutes before Jody broke into Dean’s careful focus on his surroundings, saying, “So, Sam didn’t come.”

“No, he’s still got some healing to do,” Dean said. “He wasn’t happy, but he’s not stupid; most of the time anyway. I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep him out of the game for long. Not without a pretty big fight anyway.”

“What happened to him?”

Dean hesitated a moment, deciding how much of his shame to share, and then said, “I stabbed him in the gut. Well, it was Michael running the switches, but the blade was in my hand. He came after me to get Michael out, and there was a fight. Sam got him out, but he was badly injured.” He huffed a laugh. “And the dumb kid thought I wouldn’t let him get hurt.”

“If Michael was the one in charge, what could you have done?”

“Apparently, not a damn thing,” Dean said. “But he was really messed up. He still is in a way. It was only because we got help from someone else and the fact Sam had grace in him from the spell he did to get me back that he lived at all. He’s healing now, but he’s never going to be completely right again.”

Jody nodded. “But he’s healing. He’s alive.”

“He is,” Dean agreed. “And that’s a damn miracle.”

“Are you healing, too?”

Dean frowned. “I wasn’t hurt.”

“Maybe not physically, but mental wounds need time to heal, too. You were ridden by an archangel, Dean. That must have been hell.”

“It was bad,” Dean admitted. “But hell didn’t come until later. Sam died, his heart stopped right in front of me, and I had to watch while other people tried to save him. They got him back, obviously, but then they were talking about all kinds of damage. I didn’t know if I’d ever get him back even a little. _That_ was hell, not what Michael did.”

“So you _are_ healing,” Jody said. “Just not from the wounds I thought.”

“I guess I am.”

They walked on in silence a few minutes longer and then Dean saw something ahead of them, just off the path. He sped his pace and then huffed a breath and said, “I think we’ve found your heads, Jody.” They were on spikes in the ground.

“Yeah, but what the hell kind of heads are they?” Jody asked, going ahead for a closer look.

Dean stepped up beside her and said, “Okay, fire a shot off. Mom and Cas need to see this.”

Jody raised her gun and fired a shot into the sky as Dean examined the mounted heads. They looked like vampires, but he’d never seen teeth like these before. They were larger and longer than any vampire he’d ever seen. Not even the Alpha Vampire’s had looked like these.

“Vamps,” Jody said, eyeing them closely. “That makes no sense.”

Dean snorted. “You think? I’ve been hunting most of my life, and I have _never_ seen anything like this.”

“But we ran checks on the bodies. Alex ran tissue samples with dead man’s blood and silver. There was no reaction at all.”

“Dean!”

Mary’s voice reached him a moment before the sound of their footsteps on the twig strewn ground. She and Castiel broke through the trees and Mary gave Dean an assessing look before her eyes fell on the heads.

“Vampires?” she said doubtfully.

“Cas, you seen anything like this before?” Dean asked.

“No, but they are vampires,” he said. “And there is the sense of something else. I can’t make it out. It feels almost like…”

“Like what?” Mary prompted.

Castiel frowned. “Like Michael.”

Dean’s eyes darted around as if he was going to see the archangel appearing at any moment, but there was no one there apart from them.

“He’s not here,” Castiel said. “I would sense him. There is no way to hide that level of power, but the essence of him appears to be.” He shook his head. “I can’t be sure.”

“Let’s keep moving,” Jody said.

Dean took the lead and the others stayed close behind him. His eyes searched his surroundings, looking for a sign of more strange vampires or the cloaked being, but there was none. There was a scent on the air though.

“You smell that?” he asked.

“It’s a campfire,” Jody said. “Maple.” She pointed at the trees around them. “There’s plenty of it.”

“How do you know the type of wood?” Castiel asked. “Even _I_ don’t know.”

“You might be an angel, but I’m a sap tapper,” Jody said. “I’ve got plenty of maples around my cabin. I did a lot of tapping growing up, and we always burned the wood when making syrup. My husband was best at it.” A shadow of pain crossed her face and then she smiled and said, “It’s definitely maple.”

“Which is great and all,” Dean said. “But it doesn’t do much for us. Let’s go careful. If it’s got a campfire going, it’s close.”

They walked together deeper into the trees, the smoky smell getting stronger by the minute. Then the actual smoke reached them, and Dean hurried on, following the orange gleam of light in the distance.

The fire was small, and there was a fallen log beside it as if someone had been sitting by it, perhaps warming themselves.

“They might still be close,” Mary warned.

Dean gripped his gun and bent closer to see the footprint in the mud around the fire. As the heat of the fire warmed his face, a vision flashed across his mind. It was the cloaked figure running towards him, spear aimed at his chest, except it wasn’t him; it was Michael. Dean felt an echo of the flicker of amusement Michael must have felt in the same moment, seeing the threat and dismissing it.  

“Dean!” Mary shouted.

Dean snapped upright in time to see the figure in the black cloak running toward him in the exact pose he’d seen before, spear extended.

He aimed his gun but before he could pull the trigger, two other guns were firing either side of him. He expected to see the figure dropping, for blood to flow from the holes in the cloak, but it looked as though the bullets had missed.

The figure stopped and the hood of her cloak fell back, exposing a familiar woman’s face.

Dean sucked in a breath and spoke at the exact moment she did.

“You’re her!”

“You’re not him.”

She turned and ran from them, leaping a fallen tree, and Dean stared after her, shocked into inertia.

Jody looked stunned. “That looked just like…”

“Kaia,” Dean finished for her.

“Dead Kaia?” Mary asked.

Dean nodded and started forward, climbing over the tree.

“Where are you going?” Mary asked.

“After her,” Dean said without stopping. “I want that spear.”

“And I want to know what she is,” Jody said, coming after him.

“is this a good idea?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean said, “But it’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Then I am going first,” he said. “I am the least likely to be hurt by her.”

“She hurt _Michael_ , Cas,” Dean said.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “But my life lost is only one.” He gave Dean a pointed look. “You’re not only protecting yourself.”

Dean sucked in a breath as he realized. He’d come out here to find out about the spear, and he hadn’t really considered the danger of it, but he was aware now, as was the risk with every hunt, that this could be his last. He hadn’t ever really made peace with that, despite what he’d said to Sam in the past, but now the fear was increased. If something happened to him, if he died, Sam would, too. He suddenly felt the weight of what Jessica had done. He wasn’t just defending himself anymore.

He’d always thought they would go together, but he’d hoped that would be many years from now when they were both ready and giving their lives for something good. It was as if Sam was lying on that motel bed again, heart still as the EMT’s fought to bring him back, the fear was that great.

“Okay, Cas,” he said. “But we’re staying close and you better be damn careful.”

“I will,” Castiel said, climbing smoothly over the tree trunk and moving ahead of them.

Mary and Jody closed in at Dean’s side, and they walked on. They were only a little further along the path when it began to widen and Dean saw the shape of a small building ahead. As they drew closer, he saw it was a cabin.

“Stay out here,” Castiel said tersely. “I’m going in alone.”

“Cas…” Mary started.

“I’m in the least danger,” Castiel said.

Mary looked like she wanted to argue, but a voice spoke behind them and she paled. “I wouldn’t say that. I think your chances are pretty equal. And by that, I mean you’re all dying,” 

Dean spun and saw four men walking towards them, except they weren’t men. The teeth that parted their lips were large and familiar, though, just like the vampires’, wrong, too. They were werewolves unlike any Dean had seen before.

He shot two quick shots into the closest werewolf’s chest as guns fired either side of him, and then, when the werewolf continued to come at him, he slid the machete from its sling and widened his stance. “Heads,” he growled.

He swung the blade, just to keep the werewolf out of his space, but the werewolf’s foot slammed into his stomach in a crushing kick. The air rushed out of him and he was knocked to the ground, but the pain, when it came, was less than he was expecting. Dismissing the confusion, he tried to scramble up, but the werewolf was bearing down on him. He swung wildly with the machete, and it jammed into the werewolf’s arm.

He heard a shout of rage and then a cry of triumph that he thought came from a kill but he couldn’t check who it was as his own death, Sam’s death, was approaching in the werewolf’s yellow eyes and outstretched claws

Then, without Dean moving, the werewolf’s head fell into his lap. He shoved it away and got to his feet, staring at the cloaked figured that had saved him as she swung the machete Dean had lost through the air and decapitated the werewolf that was reaching for Jody. Mary was standing, feet wide apart and there was a werewolf in pieces on the ground in front of her. Castiel, too, stood over a downed werewolf, and blood dripped from his angel blade.

The cloaked figure neatly decapitated the last werewolf with the machete and then turned to face Dean.

“Where is your spear?” Castiel asked her, his eyes fixed on her with intensity.

She ignored the question and addressed her own to Dean. “Where has _he_ gone?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “We got him out and— Cas!”

His shout of shock came at the same moment the hilt of Castiel’s blade slammed into the back of the cloaked figure’s head and she dropped unconscious to the ground, partially laying over one of the werewolves.

“Castiel,” Mary said, half shocked, half admiring.

Castiel looked blandly at Dean. “I thought we should talk to her. Find where her spear is.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered and then raised his voice. “Yes!”

“Then we need to tie her up,” Castiel said, bending down and hefting her up with his hands under her arms.

He dragged her towards the cabin and Dean followed him in. He had his questions, many of them, not least of all where the spear was, but there was another he wanted answered, too. Why had she saved his life? Why had she saved Sam in the process?

And what did she want in return?


	16. Chapter 16

**_Chapter Sixteen_ **

 

Sam set his plate in the sink and picked up the tray he’d prepared for Nick. He had slept far longer than he’d planned to, and he felt guilty. He didn’t know if anyone else had been to see Nick today, but he imagined he would be missing actual conversation. It was only that he knew he _needed_ to that had allowed him to delay going to Nick in order to eat first.

He walked through the library toward the dungeon, stopping when he saw Jack sitting in one of the comfortable chairs with a book open on his lap.

“Hey, Jack,” he said at the same moment Jack said, “Did you eat?”

“Yeah, I just finished,” Sam said.

Jack nodded, satisfied. “I was supposed to remind you. Dean said it was important. I didn’t know you were awake. I checked on you an hour ago and you were snoring.”

Sam knew Jack was only doing what Dean told him to do, and Dean had told him because they both cared, but he chafed under the knowledge that he was being monitored. Did Dean really think he was going to let himself get sick again by not taking care of himself?

“You don’t need to check on me, Jack,” Sam said mildly. “Especially not when I’m sleeping.”

Jack bit his lip. “But Dean told me…”

“Dean was wrong. I am fine. I’ll talk to him when he gets back, but you don’t need to worry about me.”

“I am worried though,” Jack stated. “Castiel told me what happened to you in the hospital. He said you almost died.”

Technically, he had died, Sam thought, but Jack didn’t need to hear that. What he was saying came from a place of love, Sam knew, and he was going to have to be patient with them all while they also recovered from what had happened.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered. “You let me sleep in peace, and I’ll make sure I come to you if something’s wrong.”

Jack considered and then nodded, a smile curving his lips. “Okay. That sounds fair.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. “I’m going to take this to Nick.”

“I fed him this morning.”

Sam glanced at his watch. “It’s evening now, Jack, and Nick needs to eat a few times a day.” He also needed company, but Sam knew Jack wasn’t able to give him that. “I’ll take care of his meals from now on, okay?”

Jack shrugged. “Okay.”

Sam carried on into the hall toward the dungeon, feeling Jack’s eyes following him as he went. He felt a pang of pity for Nick and Jack. Nick was alone in this place, surrounded by enemies, and Jack had to see the face of the man that had stolen his grace and almost caused him to kill himself to save Sam. It had to be next to impossible for them both.

The door to the file room that covered the dungeon was closed, but when Sam manoeuvred it open, balancing the tray on one arm, he saw that they’d left the shelves pulled apart so Nick wasn’t entombed completely.

He was sitting on the bed, facing away from Sam, but when Sam called his name, he spun around and a look of almost happiness spread across his face. “Hello, Sam.”

“Hey,” Sam said, entering the dungeon and setting the tray of sandwiches, fruit and juice down onto the table he’d brought him. He saw the books he’d given Nick were neatly piled and had a fine layer of dust on them. He supposed Nick had already read them too many times to want to do it again.

“How are you?” Nick asked. “Jack said you were hurt by Michael.” He paused a moment and then went on in a strange, almost accusing, tone. “He blamed me.”

“He had no right to,” Sam said. “It was Michael that did it.”

“What did he do?”

Sam pulled up his shirt to expose the long red scar on his stomach with its twisted center where the blade had gone in. “Archangel blade to the gut.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose. “That is a surgical wound, too.”

“Yeah, they had to operate. There were complications.” He lowered his shirt and pulled up the folding chair opposite Nick. “Eat.”

Nick picked up the plate and set it on his lap. He made no move to eat though, and Sam asked, “Do you want me to go so you can eat in peace?”

“No!” Nick said, and then his voice softened. “I would like you to stay if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Sam said. “I figure you didn’t get much conversation when I was gone.”

Nick smiled slightly. “I didn’t. They’re scared of me. Jack especially, though he’s trying to hide it, and he’s angry. He doesn’t see _me_ ; he sees _him_.”

Sam nodded. He understood Jack’s problem with Nick. He had been pretty much invincible until Lucifer had stolen his grace and left him weak, almost helpless. He couldn’t look past the face and see the man behind the face the way Sam could.

“But you do see me,” Nick went on. “How is that? Lucifer hurt you most of all.”

Sam planted his hands on his knees and blew out a deep breath. “I was with Lucifer the longest. I had almost two centuries of him in the Cage, and that means I know him better than anyone else—except perhaps you. For me, Lucifer is more than just a face in my nightmares. He’s more… real. I know how he looks when he’s happy, when he’s angry, and when he’s taunting. Your face can’t mimic those expressions. It was the archangel that made them. I see you.”

“That’s one blessing,” Nick said.  

Sam felt a twinge of pain in his gut, and he put his hand to the spot and took a breath.

“Are you in much pain?” Nick asked.

“Some,” Sam said. “Less than I probably should be. I guess a pain threshold earned in Hell counts for something. The actual wound hurt much more.”

“Worse than what Lucifer did to you in Hell?”

Sam flinched. “No, nothing is worse than that.”

Nick apologized quietly and Sam held up a hand. “It’s fine.”

“I also hear you have your brother back,” Nick said. “Jack told me. I think he meant it as a threat.”  

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “Jack had no reason to threaten you. And yeah, Dean is back, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to do anything to you. I doubt you’ll even see him at all.” He thought Dean would have trouble separating Nick from Lucifer, too. “How have you been?”

“Bored,” Nick said.

Sam nodded understandingly. After the days in the hospital, he understood boredom. “I’ll bring you some more books,” he said. “I’ve got some in—”

He cut off as a force slammed into his stomach, emptying his chest of air and sending him reeling back and toppling the chair. He landed on the concrete floor and his head hit hard. His vision swam and he struggled to get air into his empty lungs. I felt like something was rupturing in his stomach, flooding him with pain.

“Sam!”

Nick bowed over him, his hand extended towards him and his face worried. Sam cowered back, in that moment unable to separate that face from the pain he was feeling.

“No!” he groaned with his first indrawn breath.

Nick stepped back, hands raised, “I’m sorry.”

Sam closed his eyes and just breathed a moment until the pain faded and he managed to sit up and then get unsteadily to his feet, his hand pressed to his stomach. He righted the chair and sat down again.

“Do you need help?” Nick asked.

“No!” Sam said. “I’m fine. It’s going already.”

Nick sat down on his cot, as far from Sam as was possible, and rested his hands on his knees in an unintimidating pose.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” Sam said. “It was like getting kicked in the gut.”

“Do you think something went wrong from your surgery?”

Sam shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. It felt like an actual kick.” He drew a breath and said, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone though.”

He wasn’t sure why it felt so important, but Sam had a strong need to keep what had happened to himself. The pain was already gone and there was no tenderness when he pressed his hand to his stomach. Whatever it had been, it wasn’t a natural injury, and he wanted to investigate it before he spoke about it to anyone else. And they were already so worried, overly cautious with him. Dean had even given Jack instructions to monitor him. If they knew about this, they would suffocate him with concern. He would work out what happened and then go to them with a solution.  

“I won’t tell anyone,” Nick said. “No one really talks to me properly anyway.”

“They will,” Sam said, glad of the change of subject. “They just need time to separate you from Lucifer.”

“You didn’t,” Nick pointed out. “When I tried to help, I scared you.”

“That was different,” Sam said. “It was the pain. I always think of him when I hurt.” That wasn’t entirely true, Sam only sometimes thought of Lucifer when he was hurting, but Nick needed and deserved reassurance.  “They will see it, too, when they move past it. It will just take time. It did for me. It got better. It will for you, too.”

“How did it get better?” Nick asked.

“Time,” Sam said. “My family. Distractions. It all helped.”

“I have no family,” Nick said. “They are dead.”

“Then let me help.”

Nick stared at him for a moment, seeming to look right into him, and then said, “I think I should eat now.”

Sam nodded and got to his feet. “Yeah, sure. I’ll bring you something better than sandwiches for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Sam,” he said, and it sounded like he was thanking him for more than just the offer of a decent breakfast.

Sam smiled and then walked out of the room, leaving Nick to his meal and thoughts.

His own mind was trying to make sense of what had happened. He’d been hurt, but the pain had faded as quickly as it had come, and he felt no ill effects from it. He would work it out alone, and then, if he had to, he would tell the others what happened. It wasn’t purely selfish or selfless. He didn’t want them crowding him more than they already were, and he didn’t want them to worry.

He reasoned with himself that it was the right thing to do for them all. It was protection. None of them needed anything more to deal with.

That didn’t ease the pang of worry he felt as he walked back to his room.

xXx

Castiel was last down the stairs of the bunker, and he was the only one that didn’t drag his footsteps with exhaustion. He felt drained by what had happened and the lack of actual progress, and his depleted grace meant that he had some physical tiredness, but he was able to look better than he felt. 

Dean dropped his duffel down onto the map table and said, “I’m going to check on Sam and then crash. Cas, don’t let me sleep too long tomorrow. I want to make sure Sam is doing what he’s got to do.”

“I’m sure he will,” Mary said. “He knows how important it is.”

“He does,” Dean agreed. “But he’s also pissed about it. And he thinks he’s better than he is. He always does. He’ll be dumb, thinking he can handle it, and it’s going to hurt him. Right, Cas?”

Castiel froze. He knew Sam was likely to let the careful diet he needed to keep slip, but he also knew it wasn’t going to hurt him while he had Jo powering him. She would be able to erase any side effects that might happen due to his lack of care. She was already dealing with the terrible damage and trauma to his body; his dietary choices weren’t a challenge compared to that.

“Cas?” Dean prompted.

“I think he will take care of himself, and you need rest,” he said.

Mary nodded. “Sleep, Dean. Sam will be fine.”

“Maybe.” Dean yawned and held up a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.” He plodded towards the stairs that would lead to the library and then stopped as Jack came down them, his eyes bright.

“You’re back!”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “How’s Sam doing?”

“He’s fine.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think or what Sam told you?”

“We have a deal,” Jack said.

Dean huffed a laugh. “That’s just damn awesome. What’s the deal?”

“I’ll let him sleep in peace and he’ll come to me if something’s wrong. He didn’t like that I checked on him. He seems okay though. He slept a long time and then woke up and ate something before going to see Nick. I didn’t see him after that. I think he was sleeping again. He didn’t come out of his bedroom. How are you?”

“Fine,” Dean said dismissively. “We’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“Are you really okay?” Mary asked. “That was some kick that werewolf got in.”

“It looked worse than it was,” Dean said. “I was just winded. There’s not even a bruise.” He looked at Jack again. “What was Sam doing with Nick?”

Jack shrugged. “Talking, I think.”

“I thought you were taking care of Nick,” Mary said.

“I was, but Sam said he was going to take him his meals from now on. I don’t think I was feeding him enough.”

“Why would Sam want to though?” Dean muttered. “It’s got to be harder on him to see Lucifer’s face than any of us.”

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “But he was there before, too. It was the only thing, apart from food and sleep, that would get him away from dogging Rowena for more than an hour.”

“But it’s _him_ ,” Dean said. “I’ll talk to him. Bobby can take it over. Lucifer is nothing to him. He can handle it.”

Mary nodded but Jack looked skeptical. 

“I’ve got to crash,” Dean said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He waved a hand in farewell and passed Jack, going up the stairs and out of sight.

“He’s worried,” Jack stated.

“We all are,” Mary said.

Castiel bit his lip. They were all worried, and Castiel was the only one that knew they didn’t need to be worried about one aspect of it. Sam would be physically fine while Jo was in him. He wanted them to know, to share the secret with someone and take the pressure from him alone, but he couldn’t. It would hurt them to keep the secret from Sam, it would destroy Dean to hide it again, and if Sam found out, he would expel Jo and it would all be over for him. He would be back to a ruined man in a hospital bed, alive only because of his brother.

“I’m going to bed, too,” Mary said. “Get some rest, Cas. I know you don’t sleep, but you look tired.”

“I will,” Castiel said, smiling as she followed her son up the stairs and away.

“And I’m going to eat,” Jack said happily. “I’m hungry, and Sam is sleeping, so I can eat the good, ‘tooth-rotting’ cereal without him getting upset.”

Castiel chuckled at the innocent joy in Jack’s face and watched as he bounced his way out of the room.

When he was alone, the momentary lightness he’d felt in Jack’s happiness faded and he was left alone with the weight of his secret. It was harder to bear than he’d even imagined. He wanted to get away from it, to leave the bunker and be alone, but he couldn’t. They needed to work together to stop Michael, and he needed to monitor Jo. If there was the slightest sign that she was going to take Sam away from them or hurt someone the way Gadreel had… What could he do? Nothing, he realized. He was not at full strength, and he could think of no way to kill Jo without killing Sam. He would be useless. All he could do was hope that she kept her word and just helped Sam.

With heavy feet, he trudged into the library and sat down at the table with his head in his hands. He had kept secrets from the Winchesters before, he had broken Sam’s wall and almost totally destroyed his mind, and those betrayals hurt him, but this felt almost worse. He was betraying Sam—and therefore them all—in the worst possible way by hiding this. It could end it all.

He heard footsteps coming along the hall towards him, and his head snapped up, his face forming into lines of tiredness without stress as he recognized them as Sam’s. He turned and smiled and then his face fell as he recognized the unconcealed grace that was moving the body, not the man it belonged to.

“Jo! What are you doing? You’re supposed to be leaving him in peace. Why have you taken control again?”

Jo looked annoyed as she came deeper into the room and said, “I’m helping, again. Something happened that I thought you should know about. If you’d rather I kept it to myself, I’ll take this body back to bed and let it sleep while I work on saving him.” She scowled. “The choice is yours, Castiel.”

“Is Sam okay?” Castiel asked, concern overpowering anger.

“On the inside things are as messy as before, but it’s what happened to him that I want to tell you about. He was visiting Lucifer’s vessel when he was attacked by something.”

“By Nick?”

“No, it wasn’t a person or monster. There was nothing else there but Sam and Nick. Something kicked Sam, though, at least that’s what it felt like, in the gut. He was knocked down and hit his head.”

“What about his stomach?” Castiel asked. “Was anything damaged?”

“I was able to heal the damage almost immediately. But he’s determined not to tell anyone. Nick saw, but I don’t think he’s going to share. He’s pretty messed up himself.”

 “When did this happen?”

“Seven, maybe eight hours ago.”

“The same time…” Castiel muttered then shook his head to clear it. “We were attacked by werewolves, strange werewolves that were much more powerful than any I have seen before and that seemed to have some connection to Michael. Dean was kicked in the gut.”

“You think it’s that bond Jessica gave them?” Jo asked.

“I can’t think of anything else. I’ve never seen it before, only heard about it.” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “What do I do? I can’t even tell Sam I know what happened.”

“I don’t know,” Jo said. “I just thought you should know.”

“Why?” Castiel growled. “Don’t you think I am already hiding enough?”

Jo shrugged. “I told you because I thought you should know. Maybe you can keep a closer eye on Dean, stop him getting hurt. Find a way to tell Sam you know without telling him about me. You’re smart, Castiel, you’ll find a way.”

“I can’t do this,” Castiel moaned.

“You have to,” she said brutally. “If Sam suspects I’m here, he’ll look for me. I can hide, but with even the smallest slip, he’ll find out and expel me. I am saving him from a fate worse than death, but you can’t be sure he’ll see it that way.”

Castiel hated that she was right, and he hated that he knew. He wanted to go back to happy oblivion, when he’d had no idea how Sam was awake and was just relieved that he was.

“Someone is coming!” Jo said.

Castiel’s gaze snapped from her to the stairs Jack was coming up, a smile on his face and a bowl of cereal in his hand.

“I figured I’d keep you company,” he said. “You looked a little… Sam?”

Castiel glanced at Jo and saw that she had withdrawn into Sam again, leaving no sign of her presence. Sam was looking around the room, his brow furrowed and lips parted slightly.

“What’s going on?” he said with an air of a man coming out of a dream.

Jack looked down at his bowl of cereal and said, “I know, I know, but it’s a small bowl and I’ll brush my teeth as soon as I’ve eaten it. And Dean says it’s okay; he eats it all the time and his teeth are fine.”

Sam shook his head. “What am I doing here?”

With a lurch in his stomach, Castiel said, “I think you were sleepwalking, Sam. You didn’t seem to hear me when I spoke to you.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll go back to bed.” He looked around the room once more and then turned and padded away barefoot.

Jack came into the room and set down his bowl on the table. “That was weird.”

“He’s been through a trauma,” Castiel said. “People often do strange things after. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“No. It’s not that. It’s… I saw something, Cas.”

Castiel’s hands wanted to fist with tension, but he forced them to stay relaxed as he asked, “What did you see?”

“It looked like wings,” Jack said. “They were gone so fast, but they looked like yours: ruined.”

Castiel licked his lips and said, “It’s my grace you’re seeing. It still in Sam, healing him. He was resting, so it was at the forefront, and it disappeared when he woke up. You just saw me.”

He watched Jack carefully, examining every detail of his face for a sign of doubt that meant he would have to tell the truth—part of him hoped for it, though he shouldn’t as Jack wasn’t used to lying—but there was none.

“That makes sense,” Jack said. “It was weird though. Does Sam know about it?”

“He knows he has grace in him still, but he doesn’t know it’s visible. We shouldn’t tell him or anyone else. Sam and Dean have had had bad experiences with angels before, and it might upset them. Do you understand?”

Jack frowned but said, “I won’t say anything. I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s just grace, and it won’t last forever, will it?”

“No,” Castiel said confidently. “It will fade away. You probably won’t see it again at all.”

He would make sure of that. If Jo showed herself to him again, he would tell her it had to be the last time. She couldn’t roam the bunker, whatever the reason, risking Jack seeing something and questioning it.

“Okay,” Jack said, sounding relieved.

He took his place at the table and began to spoon up his cereal. Castiel watched him and tried not to show the maelstrom of emotion he was twisted with. He was now directly lying to the person he loved like a son. His betrayal knew no bounds. He hated Jo for putting him in this position. He hated Michael for taking Dean over and necessitating the spell and for causing the injury that started this nightmare. He hated the world for taking from the Winchesters again.

Most of all, he hated himself.

xXx

When Dean wandered into the map room in the morning, there were already people there. The table bore an array of food in the center and plates being were being piled by Mary and Bobby. Castiel was setting cutlery down in front of each person and Jack came in carrying the coffee pot

“Damn, that looks good. I woke up just in time,” Dean said. 

Sam grinned and pulled out the seat beside him for Dean and Mary greeted him and Bobby nodded.

Sam spooned some scrambled eggs onto his plate, a meagre portion, and sat down a with slightly disappointed look. Dean understood. Sam’s life and routine had changed drastically, and it had to take some getting used to. In solidarity, Dean put eggs on his own plate, too, bypassing the bacon, sausage and biscuits.

“You can eat what you want, Dean,” Sam said. “Just because I’m not allowed to enjoy anything, doesn’t mean you can’t.”

An awkward silence fell, and Bobby looked down at his plate and the others looked at Sam who forced a smile and said, “Ignore me. Eat.”

Dean picked up his fork and began to eat his eggs, but before he could get more than a mouthful, Sam was snatching the plate away and piling it with food, far more than even Dean could eat ordinarily. Seeing it for what it was, though, Sam trying to help, he grinned and said, “Thanks, Sammy.”

Jack poured cups of coffee for them, bypassing Sam which made Dean sure he remembered the talk they’d had the day before about the dos and don’ts of Sam’s diet and care. To his credit, Sam showed no sign that he’d noticed, he just ate his eggs, only the slightest frown on his face giving away his true feelings.

“You make an awesome waitress, Jack,” Dean said. “We’re going to need to get you an apron.”

Sam laughed softly as Jack considered and said, “I think I make a very good waitress. Better than cook anyway. Castiel got annoyed with me and told me to make coffee.”

“I didn’t get annoyed,” Castiel said. “I just thought the stove was getting crowded with us both trying to cook.”

Dean winked at him, expecting one in return, but Castiel merely nodded and said, “You should eat as well, Jack.”

Dean knew something was wrong with Castiel, had been since shortly after Sam got out of the hospital, but he’d thought he would loosen up or he’d talk about it already. As far as Dean knew, he hadn’t spoken to Sam about what was bothering him as they’d hardly had any time alone together. Even on the road, when space had been limited, Castiel had seemed eager to be alone. Dean was going to have to ask him about it in case it was something they all needed to worry about. 

“How did you sleep, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Fine,” Sam said. “I guess I was more tired that I realized.”

Jack’s head snapped up and he frowned, but when Sam caught his eyes, he looked down again and returned to his breakfast.

Dean thought there was something else being hidden from him, and he wanted to know what it was, but he chose not to push Sam in front of everyone. He would ask when it was just the two of them, and if Sam didn’t feel like sharing, Dean would get it from Jack.

“How did it go in Sioux Falls?” Sam asked.

“It was interesting,” Dean said. “We found the person in the cloak; it was Kaia.”

“Kaia!” Sam’s lips parted with shock. “But she’s dead.”

“She’s not technically the same person. She’s the other world’s version of her, at least I figure she is. She said, ‘what I was to her, she was to me.’  She called herself Kaia though, and she looked just like her.”

“Wow,” Jack whispered. “That’s crazy.”

“If she had some kind of connection with our Kaia, why did she kill her?” Sam asked.

“It was an accident,” Castiel said, his brows pinched with worry. “She was trying to kill Claire.”

Sam blew out a breath. “Wow. Okay. Is Claire safe now?”

“I think so,” Dean said. “Jody is going to talk to Claire about it, put her on her guard, but I think that conversation is going to be more about Claire reacting to the shock Kaia is back—even in a weird way—than that she might be in danger. Jody said she and Kaia hit it off, first love.”

“That makes sense,” Sam said. “She was torn up when Kaia died.”

“I think this new Kaia has got bigger worries than going after Claire,” Dean said. “There were these crazy monsters going after her. She said Michael sent them. He wanted to recruit her when he was running around with me as a meatsuit. That’s how he ended up getting stabbed. But these monsters, Sammy, they were werewolves and there had already been vampires, but these weren’t like any we’d seen before. Silver did nothing to them, and Jody said dead man’s blood was just as useless. The only way we could stop them was taking off their heads. And they were strong and fast. One kicked me in the gut, and it was like getting slammed with a truck.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You were kicked in the gut? Yesterday?”

Dean frowned as he recognised Sam’s shock. It was a big reaction when he could see Dean was fine. He hurried to reassure him. “Yeah, but I’m fine. I don’t even have a bruise. I guess I’m tougher that you think. Really, Sammy, I’m okay.”

Sam nodded but he still looked worried. 

“So, if this girl is being targeted by Michael, does that mean she’s joining up with us, bringing that spear thing with her?” Bobby asked.

“That’d be a no,” Dean said. “She’s happier living her life in Sioux Falls. She wouldn’t hand over the spear either.”

Bobby’s face became thunderous. “And you let that go? Don’t you think you could have maybe got it off her anyway? There’s a weapon out there that can hurt Michael, and you didn’t get it?””

“The only way we could have gotten it off her was by killing her,” Dean said.

Bobby nodded. “Yeah. And?”

Sam’s lips parted and his eyebrows rose. “We don’t just kill to get what we want, Bobby. That’s not what we do. This isn’t your world.”

Bobby threw down his knife and fork and got to his feet, his chair scraping on the tile floor. He walked toward the door and then turned and glowered at them all. “This isn’t my world,” he said. “I get that, but it will be soon if you don’t find a way to stop Michael. You needed that spear and it was worth a life to get it. It was worth one of your lives.”

“No!” Sam said harshly. “We’re not just going to sacrifice each other for this. We all get through this or not at all.”

Bobby shook his head slowly, looking contemptuous. “Then no one is getting though it, the world included. I know you’re all family and you love each other, but you’re going to have to let go of that if you want to win. No one is more important than the mission.”

“You don’t know us,” Castiel said, his tone biting. “We have all sacrificed before.”

Bobby glowered. “Then you should be prepared to do it again.”

Without another word, he marched away. His footsteps had faded before anyone spoke, and then it was Jack, saying, “Is he right?”

“No,” Sam said. “We’re all getting through this together.”

Dean nodded his agreement but he couldn’t help but question his certainty. He had sacrificed for the world before, he’d let Sam dive into the Cage, and that had destroyed him, even though the world had been saved. His family was bigger now, he had more to lose, and that scared him. He didn’t want to lose anyone, but he didn’t think the choice was going to be his.

He had a feeling Michael was going to be the one to decide who—if anyone—made it out of this fight. And that terrified him as he knew he was the only one Michael had a use for.

The rest of his family… None of them were safe.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Chapter Seventeen_ **

 

Sam pushed open the door to the storage room and called Nick’s name. There was no reply, and Sam frowned as he walked around the shelves and into the dungeon.

The reason for Nick’s lack of answer was obvious at once; he was asleep. He lay stretched out on his cot, his arm shading his eyes. 

Sam set the tray down on the table and stood a couple feet back from Nick and called loudly, “Nick! Breakfast!”

He knew better than to touch Nick while he was sleeping. In his own way, Nick was as traumatized as Sam had been immediately after his wall had been torn down, and Sam remembered the way touch had felt when he wasn’t expecting it—like a cold knife against his skin.

He said his name again and Nick started awake, going from lying down, relaxed and slumbering, to wide awake and tense at once, sitting upright.

His eyes darted around the room and Sam held up his hands. “Easy. It’s just me. I brought you pancakes.”

Nick tense shoulders softened slightly and he rubbed a hand over his face. “You made pancakes?” he asked. “Isn’t that a new kind of torture for you when you can’t eat them?”

“Dean and Mom made them. I stuck with yogurt. And it wasn’t so bad.”

That was half true. Sam was less bothered by his limited diet now, but he was still eager for it to be over. There was no indication that he was going to have complications from his surgery now, and he thought he would like to try eating normally again, to at least have coffee. If it went wrong, he was the only one that was going to suffer for it. He thought it was almost time to test himself. He just needed to give his family a little more time to see he was ready.

Nick picked up the plate and set it on his knees then started to eat. “Do you want to sit?” he asked. “Or do you need to get back to the others?”

Sam could sense that Nick wanted company, and he had nothing pressing to do, so he pulled the chair around to face the cot and sat down. “I’ve got plenty of time.”

Nick smiled slightly and took another bite.

Sam looked around the dank room and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to move to a regular room? You know I’ll talk to the others, persuade them, and it’s not like you’re any danger anymore. There’s no sign of Lucifer left in you at all.” 

“It’s fine,” Nick said. “I don’t want to make them uncomfortable. Though I would like some more books. I finished the last yesterday.”

“I’ll bring you some later,” Sam said. “Any preference about what kind?”

“Fiction, if there is any left. I know this place is more oriented towards lore, but I already know more about the supernatural world than I ever wanted to before.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Sam said. “And if I need to, I’ll go into town and buy some from the store. There’s a great place that sells used books and I haven’t visited for a long time. There never seemed to be a chance before.”

“And now?” Nick asked.

“I definitely have time,” Sam said. “We’ve got nothing on Michael at all, so we’re just cooling our heels, waiting for something to show up.”

Nick cut a bite of pancake and dipped it into the pots of strawberry and maple syrup Sam had put on the plate. It made Sam smile. Dean always mixed the syrups, too. He said it tasted better that way. _‘Why have just one flavor when you can have two?’_

Nick chewed and swallowed then said, “And how are you, Sam?”

“Me? I’m fine,” Sam said automatically.

“No more… issues?”

Sam started to shake his head and then he stopped, realizing that he was wasting his time lying. He should give himself this opportunity to unload what he was feeling.

“One more in the night.”

Nick’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What happened?”

“I woke up in the hall with no memory of going there. I was near the library, listening to Jack and Castiel talking. I didn’t stick around to see them.”

“Why not?” Nick asked and then, when Sam stayed silent, he answered himself. “Because you don’t want to worry them. But this is the fourth time you found yourself somewhere you shouldn’t be. You’re worried. Maybe you should share that with someone that may be able to help?”

Sam shook his head jerkily. “No. They can’t help anyway.”

There had been more times Sam had found himself somewhere he shouldn’t be, instances of lost time that he hadn’t told Nick about, but he thought he knew why it was happening. He was never supposed to be as well as he was now. The doctors and their tests had seen damage. They’d been shocked that the damage didn’t show so much on the scans after Sam woke up, and though Sam knew that had to be because of the grace, doing something that even Castiel hadn’t expected, it was still limited. It couldn’t bring him back completely,

If it was brain damage doing this to him, what were they supposed to do apart from worry and fuss over him? Nothing. There was no cure for him. It was better that he dealt with it alone.

“You need to talk to someone other than me,” Nick said.

“Why?” Sam asked. “Is it hard for you knowing but not being able to say anything?”

Nick considered. “It’s not hard to keep the secret exactly, but I think someone else would be able to reassure you. I know you think it’s a result of the brain damage, but what if it isn’t? There could be something wrong that they can actually fix. Has this _ever_ happened to you before?”

“Yes,” Sam said, a bite of anger at the memory in his voice. “But it’s not that this time.”

“What was it before?”

“An angel,” Sam said bitterly. “Lucifer wasn’t the only angel that used me as a vessel. About five years ago I was hurt badly, I was going to die, and Dean hooked me up with an angel. I didn’t know he did it, they tricked me into giving consent. It ended so badly then…” He shuddered as the memory of Kevin dying under his hand filled his mind. “It can’t be that again. Dean would never do that to me, and he would have known if someone else did. I trust all my family too much to think that any of them would do it to me again.”

That much he was sure of. Not one of them would allow him to be violated like that. And Castiel would see an angel in him. He had done things before to betray them, but he would never lie to Sam about that.

“Then, if you won’t tell them, you have to do your best to forget it,” Nick said. “That is what I am doing after Lucifer.”

“Sorry, I didn’t even ask,” Sam said, immediately feeling guilty for offloading on Nick without asking how he was coping at all. “How are you doing?”

Nick set down his half-eaten breakfast on the table and picked up the cup of coffee. He tapped his fingers against the china and then said, “I think it’s getting better. I don’t think about him all the time now. I can go for an hour without seeing the things he did in my mind. It’s better than I ever imagined it would be. I deny the thoughts as much as I can when they come, and deal with them when I can’t. It’s what keeps me sane.” He eyed Sam seriously. “It’s what I suggest you do, too.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll try. Thanks, Nick.” He got to his feet and picked up Nick’s plate. “I’ll go find some more books for you.”

“Thank you, Sam.” He sipped his coffee and then, before Sam reached the shelves that opened into the file room, he said, “I mean it, you know.”

“Mean what?”

“When I say thank you. You have shown me more kindness and respect than I deserve, and I am grateful for it. I don’t feel like a monster when I am talking to you.”

Sam walked back into the room so he could look Nick in the eye as he said, “You’re not a monster, Nick. You’re a man that made a mistake. We’ve all done that before. You’re not responsible for what Lucifer did when he was controlling you, just like me and Dean weren’t when we were vessels. You let him in, so did we. Our reasons were different, but they both had consequences. You can’t carry that forever.” He paused and considered a moment. “I don’t.”

 Nick frowned. “Really?”

“Really. I used to, but I have learned you have to tally the good you did along with the bad. And you have to let it go. It will destroy you otherwise.”

Nick nodded slowly. “I think I understand.”

“Good.”

Sam left the room and went in search of Castiel. He wanted to check on him, hoping Castiel seemed a little better than he had for the past weeks. He wondered if Castiel would tell him what was wrong yet.

xXx

Dean was in the library with Bobby and Castiel. Bobby had a book of angel lore open that he was reading and Dean was making a list for the grocery store trip he was preparing to go on. Castiel was sitting in silence, staring at a point on the opposite wall with a furrowed brow in a pose that was becoming frustratingly familiar. Dean knew there was something going on with him, but even when he pushed aside his discomfort to ask what it was troubling his friend, Castiel would say nothing and excuse himself. All Dean knew was that it started four weeks ago, when Sam got out of the hospital, and it seemed to be getting worse.

Dean was trying to think of interesting meals for Sam with the limited ingredients he could use when the man himself came into the library with his iPad in his hands.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said. “Making a list for the store. Anything you want?”

“Huh?” Sam said vaguely, still reading something on his tablet.

“Food. Store. You want anything?”

“Yes,” Sam said decisively. “I want to take a hunt.”

Dean froze with his pen poised, nib down on the paper, and Bobby and Castiel’s eyes moved to him. Bobby looked intrigued, and Castiel cautious. It was Castiel’s expression that stopped him refusing Sam outright and considering other ways to come at the situation as he had a feeling that was what Castiel was waiting for.

It was going to be tricky as he had no intention of letting Sam go on a hunt yet. He was healing fine, that was true, but it hadn’t been long enough for Sam to test himself in the field. He could get hurt.

“What’s the hunt?” he asked carefully.

A smile twitched Sam’s lips, possibly because Dean wasn’t cutting him off as was his instinct. “Vampires, I think, in Nebraska. They’re calling it an animal attack, but there are no missing hearts so it’s not a werewolf or shapeshifter.”

“And the moons aren’t right,” Bobby pointed out.

“Does that matter anymore?” Sam asked. “These Uber-Wolves that were going after Kaia were turbo-charged. Do you really think they’re still tied to the moons?”

“Maybe not,” Bobby said. “And ain’t that a whole new ass-load of trouble for us.”

“I don’t know, Sammy. You’ve not been out of the hospital that long.”

“It’s been _weeks,_ and I’m handling it,” Sam said.

Dean frowned. “Handling what?”

Sam formed his face into a look of innocence and said, “Everything. The pills, the diet. I’m ready. I don’t need the painkillers anymore. And it’s not like I have the feeding tube. I’m handling all the issues.”

Dean was sure that wasn’t what he’d meant, but he knew Sam would lock down and refuse to talk at all if he pushed, especially in front of Bobby and Castiel. He would need to get him alone and catch him off his guard if he was going to get Sam to open up.

“What do you think?” Sam asked. “Worth checking into.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it has to be us. Mom and Bobby can go.”

 “They could, but they’re not.” Sam’s expression became mulish. “I’m going. You can come if you want, but you don’t have to.” He softened his voice, his expressive face morphing into worry. “I know it’s not been that long for you, since Michael. If you need a little more time, I get it. I’ll see if Mom wants to come with me.”

“I’m ready! More than ready. Nothing’s bothering me at all,” Dean said, dropping his pen and half rising from his chair. “I can handle it.”

“And so can Sam,” Castiel said.

There was too much certainty in Castiel’s voice for Dean to let it slide. It sounded like he knew something the rest of them didn’t. “Something you want to share with the class, Cas?” he asked,

“No,” Castiel said quickly. “Only that I can see Sam’s state better than any of you, and I know he’s ready for this.”

Dean had a feeling it was more than that, but he didn’t want whatever it was coming out in front of Bobby. If there was something for them to discuss, it was going to be done as a family. And Bobby, no matter how much he looked and sounded like their Bobby, wasn’t family. His priorities were different to theirs. He only cared about stopping Michael. The rest of them cared about that while taking care of each other.

“I’ll get my stuff,” Sam said, starting away.

“Sam, wait!”

Sam turned and his face was sympathetic. “You really don’t have to come, Dean. I can handle it.”

“So can I,” Dean said. “You grab our stuff and I’ll find Mom and let her know where we’re going.”

Sam grinned but his voice was casual as he said, “Okay. Sure. Meet you at the car.”

He left the room, a bounce in his step, and Dean watched him go with a frown.

Bobby chuckled. “He’s good.”

“Who’s good?” Dean asked.

“Your brother. He just played you like a fiddle. You’re so determined to prove that you’re okay that you’ve given up your worries on whether or not he is.” He chuckled again. “That was pretty smooth.”

Dean realized Bobby was right, and it made his stomach sink. “You really think he’s ready, Cas?” he asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said confidently. “I think you both are.”

“I know _I_ am,” Dean snapped.

Castiel nodded. “Then you will both be fine.”

Dean stared at him a moment longer, feeling that he had just been played again, and then he stopped and smiled. “Cas, you’re coming, so’s mom. Sam wants to hunt, he can, but we’re stacking the odds in our favor.”

Castiel rose to his feet, looking oddly relieved. “Of course. Would you like me to find Mary?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Dean said. “You can be the one to tell Sam what’s happening.”

Bobby huffed a laugh and muttered. “Coward.”

Dean ignored the jibe. Sam wouldn’t be happy when he heard Dean had made the hunt a group affair, but he was going to have to deal with it. He had let himself be manipulated into this hunt by Sam, and now he was going to do what he could to make it as safe for his brother as he could.

Sam could suck it up.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Chapter Eighteen_ **

 

When Sam had met Dean in the garage, ready to leave for Nebraska, he’d been surprised to find Mary and Castiel waiting, Castiel muttering about trying to find him, and Dean wearing an unrepentant grin as he announced they were all going.

Sam had wanted some time on the road with just Dean, like the old days, but he couldn’t deny it was probably better to stack the odds in their favor. Just because he felt fine, that didn’t mean he was going to stay fine. If he was right that Dean’s injury at the hands of the werewolf had transferred to him because of their new connection, it meant he could be compromised if Dean was hurt and therefore, he would be less able to protect his brother—not that Dean would ever want Sam to talk about protecting him. The mentality Dean always had of protect-Sam-at-all-costs had eased up over the years, but it was still there, and he wouldn’t be overjoyed to learn that Sam was thinking along the same lines.

He nodded his agreement at Dean’s explanation, said, “Great,” and got into the Impala while Mary and Castiel made for Mary’s car and Dean slid in beside him and cranked up the stereo.

They made the drive to Grand Island in less than two hours and met at a motel to plan their next step. Sam pointed out that four FBI agents showing up at the morgue would look a little weird, so Mary and Castiel stayed behind at the motel as Dean and Sam changed into their suits and headed to the hospital.

Sam was buoyant again as Dean pulled them into a spot in the hospital parking lot, and he was out of the car and smoothing his suit before Dean had even taken the keys from the ignition.

Dean got out after him and fell into step at his side. “It’s not a race, Sam,” he said.

“Sorry,” Sam said, slowing his pace slightly. “I just want to get started.”

“I get that, and I know it’s been a while and you’ve been getting frustrated, but feds don’t usually jog into cases unless they’re aiming a gun at the same time.”

Sam slowed a little more and let Dean be the first through the automatic doors and to the information desk to get them directions to the morgue.

As expected, the morgue was located in the far corner of the hospital site, and they had a long walk to get there. Sam had found that, when they were onsite, morgues were kept away from the people as much as they could be. No one wanted to come in to get their appendectomy and see a sign directing them to the morgue right beside the OR. It didn’t exactly instill confidence in the competence of the surgeon.

“What do you think?” Sam asked as they reached the door to the morgue. “Friendly or a jerk?”

Dean considered their usual debate of the reception they were going to get from the coroner. They did the same for local cops when they had to deal with them. The odds were on unfriendly cops that didn’t want feds interfering with their investigations, but there were more friendly coroners than there were cops.

“Jerk,” Dean said. “Ten bucks.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Sam said, and then pushed open the door and went into the anteroom where a young man was seated behind a desk and flicking through a file. He looked up as they entered and sat up straight and formed his expression into one of professional greeting.

“How may I help you?”

Sam guessed his age as early twenties, perhaps a student earning extra cash by assisting in the morgue, maybe a med student that was getting work experience, too.

“Agents Plant and Page,” Dean said. “We’d like to see your animal attack victims.”

The kid nodded. “Sure. I’ll tell Doctor Findlay you’re here.” He stood and moved around his desk, skirting them as much as the small room would allow, and disappeared through double doors that closed on swinging hinges and wafted them with cool air.

Dean scowled. “Great. Another icebox morgue.”

Sam knew Dean was aware of why the places were cold so he didn’t remind him. This was just Dean’s usual low-level complaint about one of the parts of the job neither of them particularly enjoyed. Morgues were for the people they were too late to save. There was no hope for better here.

The doors opened again and a white-coated man with sparse greying red hair came through and looked between Sam and Dean with his eyebrows knitted low over his eyes. “Gentlemen, I hear you’re from the FBI.”

“Agent Plant,” Dean said, holding up his badge. “And this is Agent Page.”

“Doctor Finlay,” the man replied, examining their badges closely and looking annoyed when Dean and Sam quickly removed them from his scrutiny and tucked them back into their pockets. “And you want to see our animal attacks?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “Do you have an ID for them yet?”

“I do, but they’ve not been autopsied yet, so they’re not really ready for you. If you come back tomorrow, they can be made ready.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said. “We don’t need a full report; we just want to see the injuries right now.”

“And the FBI is investigating animal attacks, why?”

Dean smiled thinly. “We’re a full-service bureau these days.”

Doctor Finlay scowled and said, “You can see them, but I will not be rushed. Peter, bring me the paperwork.”

The kid flushed as he picked up the file he’d been reading and retrieved another from a cabinet and handed them to the doctor who said, “Follow me,” and went back through the doors.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Dean said quietly and went after him with Sam on his heels.

The white room they entered was colder than even Sam had expected, and there were three stainless steel tables spaced around the room with shower hoses hanging above and drains beneath. One of them bore a body in the process of being autopsied and a rolling table of tools beside it. Doctor Finlay covered it with a sheet and then went to the bank of steel refrigerators that filled one wall.

He checked the file he was holding and opened a fridge and slid out a drawer that held a body. It was larger than Sam expected, and he thought, reassured, that at least he wasn’t going to be faced with a dead child.

The doctor pulled back a sheet, and a face was revealed. It was a young man, with a heavy brow and strong jaw. Sam thought he would have been imposing alive, but dead he looked pathetic, a waste. He couldn’t have been more than twenty.

“This is Richard Bannister,” Doctor Finlay said. “We identified him from fingerprints from military records. Nineteen years old and a private in the US Army. He was living on the base just outside of town. Last seen leaving Teddy’s Bar yesterday evening with our second victim. He leaves a fiancé behind.”

Sam thought that was a weird thing for a coroner to point out, and then he thought of the way that the doctor had covered the body he’d been working on when interrupted by their arrival. He saw the people that the bodies had once been. In Sam’s experience with coroners, it was unusual, as they tended to maintain a professional distance, but this man was apparently the anomaly. He was reminding them of the same fact. These were people. Sam didn’t need reminding, but he was pleased with the attempt. This man may be a little dour and no fan of the FBI, but he was good and he cared. Dean might not be getting his ten bucks after all.

Doctor Finlay drew the sheet a little lower on the body, revealing the throat and upper chest. The wounds were located on the neck, one each side, and though they were familiarly patterned, Sam had never seen them as big as this before. He exchanged a glance with Dean who nodded, and Sam knew he had seen the same monster in the wounds as he had, though it posed a problem in that these weren’t ordinary vampires.

“And the second victim has the same wounds?” Dean asked.

“Yes. I’ll show you.” Doctor Findlay covered the body with the sheet and slid the drawer away and closed the heavy door then opened a second and drew out another drawer. This body was smaller, and Sam guessed at a female. Doctor Finlay pulled down the sheet to her chin and said, “Olivia Kline. US Army Corporal. Married.”

Dean nodded and said, “And the wounds?”

The doctor drew the sheet down and Sam saw the same kinds of wounds on her throat. It had definitely been vampires, almost certainly the strange kind Dean had told him about that he’d seen in Sioux Falls. And if they were like the werewolves, they were going to be stronger and faster and harder to kill without dead man’s blood to slow them down.

Sam was grateful that he and Dean hadn’t come alone now. They were going to need help, especially Castiel’s enhanced strength, to kill them. 

“The same,” Dean muttered. “Okay. Great. Thanks for showing us this. We’ve seen all we need to see.”

Doctor Finlay carefully covered the face and then pushed in the drawer and closed the door.

“When I have autopsied them, I will publish my findings and you will be able to access them through your department.”

“I’d try exsanguination,” Dean said.

“The doctor frowned. “Is that a joke?”

“No,” Dean said solemnly. “It’s what you’re going to find.” He turned away. “You ready, Agent?”

Sam nodded and thanked the doctor and then followed Dean out of the room and anteroom to the corridor.

“Vamp,” Dean growled as they set off away from the morgue.

“At least two,” Sam said. “There were two bite marks on them. And that was if they had two meals each. We could be looking at a nest of at least four. And the bites were different from what we’ve seen before.”

“Yeah, they’re what you’d see after the things I saw in Sioux Falls got their monster-sized teeth into someone. I tell you, Sammy, I’m damn glad we’ve got Mom and Cas in on this with us. If they’re anything like the werewolves, they’re going to be a real challenge.”

“I know. But we’ve got Cas. He’ll be an advantage.”

“We have,” Dean agreed, but he didn’t look cheered. “It’s not going to be an easy hunt though.”

Sam ducked his head, hesitating over admitting the side effect of their connection. If Dean knew, he would be more careful about not getting hurt, leaving Sam capable, too, but if he was thinking of protecting Sam more than he surely already was, he was going to be distracted. It was safer for Sam to let Dean go into the hunt the way he always did, not weighed with the knowledge that he was burdened with Sam’s physical safety as well as his life.

Dean nudged him with his elbow. “What? What are you thinking?”

“I was just wondering if we should bring some more in on the hunt,” Sam lied. “We’ve got Bobby back home. He could grab a couple of his guys and come help.”

Dean considered. “We’ll see if we can track the vamps and see how many there are. If it’s two—or even four—we can handle them ourselves. If it’s more than that, we’ll call in backup.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said.

He was glad Dean wasn’t questioning him further, and it was with only a small twinge of guilt for his secret that he made his way out to the Impala with Dean. 

xXx

After Sam and Dean returned from the morgue and reported what they’d seen, it was agreed that they would spend the evening searching for possible bases for the vampires and then stake them out in the morning when sunlight might give them a slight advantage if there was an opportunity to attack.

After exploring the area and finding two likely places for the vampires to lurk—an abandoned factory and a farmhouse that looked as though it had been empty for years—they ate dinner together in a restaurant a few blocks away from the motel they were booked into. It was a nicer place than Castiel was used to seeing the Winchesters frequent, and he noticed that as Dean demolished a steak, Sam watched with a slight look of longing as he picked at his steamed potatoes and grilled chicken breast.

Perhaps Dean saw the change in his brother, too, as he suggested they go straight back to the motel after they ate and have an early night instead of lingering in the bar attached to the restaurant for a drink.

Castiel passed the night in the room between Mary’s and Sam and Dean’s, reading a book he’d brought from the library that dealt with the history of the Men of Letters in their time at the turn of the nineteenth century and listening carefully for any sounds of movement in Sam and Dean’s room that might mean Jo was exploring again.

There was no sign of her though, no sounds of anything but rest until early morning when he heard Mary moving around and Sam and Dean talking. He left them all to their routines until Mary passed by his room and knocked on her way to Sam and Dean’s room.

When he met her in their room, Sam was sitting on the side of his bed, tying the laces of his boots, and Dean was in the bathroom, making a great deal of noise about brushing his teeth.

There was tension in the air that Castiel didn’t understand until Dean came out, wiping his mouth on a towel, and said, “We going out to eat, or shall I bring something in?”

“Oh, I get a choice in that?” Sam said bitterly. “Or were you just talking to Mom?”

Dean threw his towel onto Sam’s bed—where it was quickly picked up and thrown onto Dean’s with a look of annoyance—and said, “I am _trying_ to help you, Sam. If you weren’t acting like a child, I wouldn’t need to.”

Mary held up her hands placatingly as Sam scowled and opened his mouth to retort. “Okay. Enough. What’s going on with you two?”

 _“Sam_ wants coffee,” Dean said pointedly.

Sam glowered at him. “ _Sam_ can talk for himself. And what _he_ said was that he was sick of Gatorade and how bad could it really be to have one lousy cup of coffee when I have been _fine_ since this whole diet crap started.”

Mary softened. “Sam, you know—”

“I know!” Sam snapped. “I heard all the same warnings from the doctors and I read the same diet sheets. It’s not like I was actually going to have it. It was just something I said.”

Castiel wasn’t sure he believed him. He had seen enough of Sam’s expression of sufferance when he was eating one of his frequent meals and drinking the colorful energy drinks he was required to measure carefully. He could easily believe that Sam would slip back into his old diet with serene happiness. It was worse for Castiel as he knew Sam could very easily return to his old diet without consequences while Jo was in him as she could ease any possible side-effects or difficulties with malnourishment. None of them knew that though, only Castiel did, and he would sooner face Michael alone with only his useless angel blade to defend him than tell them about Jo.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and got quickly to his feet. “We might as well go out. At least that way you and Mom can get something decent and hot.”

Mary’s face softened into lines of sympathy and she reached for Sam and then dropped her hand as Sam brushed past her and went outside.

Dean watched him go and said, “We better get going. I think Sam needs something to kill to pull him out of this mood.”

Mary nodded and made for the door. “Let’s go.”

Castiel filed out after her, Dean at his back, and watched Sam as he kicked a coke can so that it skidded across the parking lot. Castiel understood Sam was struggling, and he could even empathize a little as his whole life had changed when he’d lost his grace and food suddenly became a vital and frustrating part of his life, but he wished Sam was feeling it less. Knowing that Sam was struggling, that there was something he could do to ease that particular worry, made him feel guilty and that wasn’t a sensation he enjoyed, despite his long familiarity with the feeling. 

xXx

Castiel and Sam were sitting in Mary’s car, parked in a thicket of trees close to the farm they were staking out, and watching the building in the distance for a sign of life. Sam was armed with binoculars to give himself a better view, but Castiel was trusting his enhanced angelic senses to see any sign of the anticipated monsters.

Mary had suggested that she and Dean team up, taking the Impala, and Sam and Castiel take her car. Castiel suspected she’d made the suggestion to allow some space between Sam and Dean whose tempers were still sparking against each other, though she’d said she’d not had much time with Dean since Michael and she wanted to have some now things were calmer. 

Castiel could tell Sam wanted to talk, but in the last hour they’d been on their stakeout, he’d only spoken to discuss the hunt. Castiel thought he would need prompting, but he didn’t know what to say. Sam was usually the talker in the family, and it was when he fell silent that they worried. Castiel was worried now.

Sam sat up suddenly and put the binoculars to his eyes, fixing them on the farm, and then lowered them and sat back again. “Thought I saw something,” he explained dully.

“Should we call your mother and Dean to see if they’ve had any luck?” Castiel asked, more for something to say than because he thought they needed to; they’d agreed to call each other if they saw something.

Sam shrugged. “You can if you like. There’s no point me calling Dean. He’s just going to give me crap about…” He bit his lip and then rushed on in a tirade. “I’m not an idiot, Cas! I know my body and I know my limits. Dean doesn’t need to monitor me the whole time. He’s so damn intense lately. It’s making me crazy!”

Castiel thought Dean had actually been much more relaxed in the past week since Sam’s health had improved greatly. He wondered if there was something he’d missed or if this was Sam being unreasonably angry about the situation he was in and transferring it onto his brother’s concern.

“You were very ill, Sam. There were times, before Dean made his deal with Jessica, in which none of us thought you would even live, let alone recover as much as you have. It makes sense that Dean is still dealing with the trauma of that.”

“I get that. I’ve been in that position with Dean before, I know what it’s like to be scared, but this isn’t that.” His voice softened into concern. “It’s not about me. It’s Michael.”

Castiel frowned. “You mean what Michael did to Dean, breaking their deal and taking him over?”

“That and what happened after. Dean says he doesn’t remember it, but he’s lying. Michael told me Dean was distracted when I was facing him, and with what we know about Michael, what he did to that world, I don’t believe it was the same kind of fake hunt distraction Gadreel gave me. Dean couldn’t have been watching as he would never have let Michael hurt me if he had.”

“Perhaps he did see and now is ashamed that he couldn’t stop it,” Castiel ventured. “You know yourself how difficult it is to overpower an archangel. Dean was beaten badly before you managed to take control of Lucifer. It could just be that Dean saw and failed to stop it happening and is now too ashamed to tell you.”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “Dean is stronger than me. He didn’t know what was happening when Michael had him. If he’d known, he would have beaten him down straight away. I think Michael hurt him.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “And that’s what’s going on now. He doesn’t want to face what happened, so he’s focused on me. He’s displacing.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Do you think perhaps you are, too?”

Sam frowned. “Displacing what?”

“What happened to you and to Dean. You were almost killed by Michael, your brother was stolen and gone weeks before you got him back. Don’t you think you could be displacing how you feel about that and your current situation, your changed needs and limitations, by siphoning it into anger at your brother?”

“No. I’m not. I am feeling what happened to Dean and I am dealing with what my life is now just fine. This is about what—” He cut off and his eyes unfocused.

“Sam!” Castiel waved a hand in front of Sam’s face, concerned now that there was something seriously wrong. And then Sam’s face became animated again and Castiel saw the true face beneath it. “Jo!”

She looked around out of the windshield and then fixed her eyes on Castiel. “Hello, Castiel.”

“What are you doing?” Castiel growled. “You’re supposed to be leaving him alone, doing what you need to do to sustain and heal him, not coming out to talk when you decide. This isn’t fair.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “It’s not right, fair or sensible, but what choice do I have? I am talking to you now for a reason, so shut up and listen so I can let him take control again and you can go back to helping him.”

“What do you want?”

“This hunt,” she said pointedly, “is a bad idea, and you know it. I told you he is suffering Dean’s injuries, and yet you’re allowing him to go into a situation that invites injuries for them both. If Dean is hurt, Sam is going to suffer the weight of it, and that’s going to leave him an open target for these vampires.”

“You can heal him,” Castiel said dismissively.

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. I’m already flat out keeping him functioning and doing what I can for his massive brain injury, but I can stop and help out if a vampire gets its teeth into him. If he is bitten and drained, there is nothing I can do for him—you know that. He will only be kept alive by his connection to Dean, and that is only in effect while Dean is alive. What do you think will happen if Dean sees his brother bleeding out? Do you think he will be careful and watch his own back, or do you think he will forget what he’s doing to help Sam?”

Castiel felt a sinking sensation in his gut. He knew this hunt was dangerous, but he’d comforted himself with the fact Dean was at his peak and Sam had Jo sustaining him. He’d been confident that between the five of them, they would come out of the hunt mostly unscathed. He hadn’t considered Jo’s limitations for blood loss. Even as his best, Castiel couldn’t save them from that. He could only sustain life while their own bodies replenished. Jo would do that for Sam, but if Dean was bitten, or Mary, they would be at risk of death and unable to defend themselves while trying to save the other.

One of the greatest strengths and weaknesses the Winchesters had was the bond they shared with each other. They would die for each other in the literal sense, and that was a practical possibility now.

“You have to help Sam,” he said. “Focus on protecting him and I will defend Dean and Mary.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” she asked. “I told you I am already doing what I can for him.”

“You can lend him strength. Help him to take care of himself.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think he’d notice if he suddenly had super strength?”

“Of course he’ll notice,” Castiel snapped. “Just like he will notice you taking over his body to talk to me. But this is about defending his life and the lives of his family. We will find a way to cover what he notices.”

“And you don’t think it would just be easier to stop the hunt altogether? Find a way to change his mind about it?”

Castiel laughed mirthlessly. “You don’t change a Winchester’s mind. You stand with them or in their path. They will do what they want regardless. All you can hope to do is help.”

“Fine! Do what you think is right. I’ll leave it to you.”

Castiel started to answer but her face returned to Sam’s who said, “—happened to Dean.”

Castiel grappled for a reply for a moment, disconcerted by the sudden return to his friend, and said, “Yes,” vaguely.

Sam scrutinized him and then said, “You okay, Cas?”

“Yes. I am just wondering where these vampires are. It’s possible they’re not in either of the locations we’ve tracked. They could have left town already.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got to be sure.” He checked his watch and then his face became stricken. His eyes moved to the clock on the dash to his watch again and Castiel saw the look of genuine fear in him before it was quickly covered with a smooth mask. 

“Are you okay, Sam?” Castiel asked cautiously.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he said curtly. “We’ve just been here longer than I thought. We should probably…” He sighed and shook his head then in a quiet admission, “It’s happening again, Cas.”

“What’s happening?” Castiel asked, his mind searching for any reassurance he could give his friend.

Sam’s brow furrowed as the mask fell away and his eyes became worried. “You can’t tell Dean, okay?”

Castiel nodded and said, “Okay,” without hesitation. If Sam had noticed time passing too fast to be natural, he didn’t want Dean investigating it.

Sam stared into his eyes, testing him, and then said, “I keep losing time. It’s happening all the time. I find myself in places I have no memory of going to, strange places in the bunker that we’ve never really explored before. You know the place is huge and we hardly use any of it, but I keep waking up in the middle of the old storage areas or the med bay.”

Castiel kept his expression smooth but internally he was raging. He thought it was bad enough that Jo was taking over Sam to talk to him with cause, but to think that she was doing it with no good reason or excuse—apparently just so she could explore the bunker—was enraging.

“You’re sleepwalking,” Castiel said reassuringly. “That’s all.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s part of it, but when I’m awake, I lose time. I can lose whole minutes on the same page of a book without being aware of what’s happening.” He bit his lip. “It’s like Gadreel again.”

Castiel’s heart skipped and then began to race. It was more than Jo taking over and Sam being aware of it; he was also connecting it to what happened before. If he delved deep into himself, if he searched for her, would he find her or had Jo concealed herself enough to go unfound? It was a huge risk. And Castiel was in an impossible position now. He had been hiding the truth from them all by not explaining the reason behind Sam’s miracle recovery, but now he had no choice but to go deeper and betray Sam directly with a lie.

“It’s not Gadreel, Sam.”

“No, he’s dead,” Sam agreed. “But what if it’s a different one? The way I recovered the way I did was crazy. The doctors had no explanation for it.”

“It was grace,” Castiel said quickly.

“Yeah, but whose?” He bit his lip. “Do you think Dean tricked me again?”

“No,” Castiel said firmly. “Dean would never do that again. And I would know. If there was an angel in you again, I would see it. I was human before, but now I have some grace if not all. An angel would be clear to me. The healing came from _my_ grace, no one else’s.”

He was twistedly pleased with the sincerity he heard in his own ears. There was no doubting his honesty from his tone. He had lied so convincingly Sam couldn’t possibly doubt him. The lie was a betrayal, every moment Castiel hid the truth was a betrayal of the man he saw as a closer brother to him than any angel that had ever been, and he hated that, but he sickly proud that he was doing it so well.  

Sam seemed to sink into his seat as the relief relaxed his tense muscles. He smiled and said, “Thanks, Cas. I should have known that already. I shouldn’t have doubted you’d know and tell me. I’m sorry.”

Castiel forced a smile. “With your history, it’s understandable for you to be concerned. I think there is a medical explanation though. The doctors told us about the damage and your prognosis, but they also explained the miracle of the brain. They said there could be improvement if your brain rewired itself. There was still damage after you woke up, wasn’t there?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then this is just those parts rewiring themselves. There is nothing to worry about, though I imagine these instances of lost time are disturbing. They will not last forever. You will be wholly yourself again when you’re healed.”

That wasn’t a lie. When Jo was done healing him, whether that be weeks, months or years away, Sam would be himself and free of her again. The smallest truth told was a comfort to him in the depths of his self-hatred.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, his face cheered now. “Don’t tell anyone else though, I don’t want them worrying or putting me back on the bench because they don’t think I’m up to the hunt.”

“I won’t,” Castiel said. “And I will do what I can to help you in any other way there is.”

“You can do that by protecting my mom and Dean. I’ll be fine no matter what happens as long as Dean is. And I really can take care of myself.”

“I think so, too,” Castiel said confidently. “You’re stronger than even you know.”

Sam grinned. “Make sure you tell Dean that. I think he could do with the reminder.”

Castiel smiled. “If there is an opportunity, I will, and I will tell you the same. I know why Dean is worried about you, and I know why you’re worried about him. You are both displacing your feelings onto the other. If you can find a way to stop that, you will both be in a stronger position to help each other.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure that will be easy.”

Castiel looked at him seriously. “It will be easier than many other things you have faced in your life, Sam.”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Castiel knew he was right. He had seen the Winchesters do incredible things, both together and alone, and he knew the kind of men they were. Each of them was dealing with something that they could handle if they allowed themselves to and trusted each other to be open about what they felt.

That was advice he couldn’t give though. Trust was a forbidden topic for him now. He had taken their trust and squandered it. It was to save a life, but it would still be seen as unforgivable.

He would limit his betrayal as much as he could.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Chapter Nineteen_ **

 

“And he wanted coffee!” Dean said, his incredulity expressed in his wide eyes. “Like that was even an option!”

Mary had listened to Dean’s venting for a few minutes in silence, knowing he needed to get it out of his system without being interrupted, but she thought he’d had enough time now and it was time for her to step in.

“I understand that.”

“Exactly! He’s acting like… Wait. What?”

Mary smiled slightly. “I understand why he would want it. It makes sense.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously, Mom, you don’t see how epically stupid he’s being?”

“No,” Mary said, staring her son straight in the eyes. “It’s not stupid. He didn’t actually have coffee; he just wanted it. Have you never craved something you couldn’t have?”

Dean ignored her question and said, “If I hadn’t stepped in, he would have had it.”

“And what would have happened?” Mary asked then went on before he could answer. “He might have had an upset stomach, he could have gotten dehydrated, but those are consequences only he would have suffered, and they’re minor compared to what he’s already been through.”

Dean glowered. “It was a stupid idea.”

“Maybe, but I think even you can see why he had that idea.” She sighed. “You’ve got to ease up on him, Dean. He’s doing so much better now, better than we ever could have dared hope for, so concentrate on that.”

“Yeah, he’s doing better,” Dean acknowledged. “But that could still change if he doesn’t take care of himself.”

“But he is. And if there was a problem coming, Castiel would see it and warn us. We would be able to get him back to the hospital straight away so they could take care of him. But Castiel has seen nothing, he _is_ okay, so you need to ease up. We have to let him take back control and test himself. He needs to see that he’s strong again.”

“I know he’s strong,” Dean said defensively. “I’ve seen that for years.”

“But does Sam feel it now? He was almost killed by Michael and, when our miracle happened and he woke up, he had to hear just how bad he had been and then go through a painful and frustrating recovery. His whole lifestyle has had to change because of the surgery. That’s got to be hard for him to accept, and if pushing the limits of his diet and hunting again is what he needs, we have to let him do that.”

“I’m letting him hunt, aren’t I?” Dean grumbled.

Mary shook her head. “That’s the problem. You’re _letting_ him. Sam doesn’t need permission from any of us. He just needs our support. I know it’s hard for you, you feel like you have to take care of him and that’s even more pressing since he was hurt, and you’ve got your own stuff to deal with, but—”

“My ‘own stuff’? You mean like watching my brother dying when I couldn’t do a thing to save him?”

“Your brother and _my_ son,” Mary reminded him, a bite of anger in her voice. “And I was there watching it and feeling it with you, so was Castiel. This didn’t just happen to you and Sam; it happened to us all.”

She felt guilty for letting her anger show, and she knew she had little or no right to allow it after the way she’d let her sons down since she’d been brought back, but she struggled to accept it when Dean spoke like this. She knew she would never understand the bond her sons shared and the life they’d had between her death and resurrection, how that had changed them, but she was trying. When Dean spoke like this, excluding her and the others that loved them, it hurt her. It made her feel like she was on the outside of her family, looking in.

Dean stared at her for a moment, his brows knitted and his mouth a thin line, and then he nodded and said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Mary laid her hand over his where it lay on his lap and said, “You’ve been through a lot together, I know, but you need to accept that things are different now. You’re not alone anymore; we’re all here to help.”

“I’m trying to help him,” Dean grumbled.  

Mary thought _help_ was the wrong word for what Dean wanted to do; she thought _save_ would be better. Dean was still locked in the terror of the hospital, when Sam had been slipping away from them, and he couldn’t accept that he was okay now. Sam was alive thanks to Dean’s deal with Jessica. He would live as long as Dean did, and Mary would make sure that was a long, long life.

“How do you do it?” Dean asked. “Like you said, you were right there with us in the hospital, but you’re… I don’t know. You’re dealing.”

Mary shook her head with a rueful smile. “I don’t think I’m dealing with it, but I am _living_ with it. I still have nightmares. I see Sam’s face and hear his words when he told me Michael had taken you, and I feel that horror all over again, that helplessness and fear, every night. I see Sam dead in that motel with the EMT’s trying to save him, and I sit beside him in the hospital, willing him to keep fighting. I wake up feeling just as scared by those things as I was in the moment they happened, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from running to check on you both, but I do stop myself. I remind myself that you’re both back, healthy and strong, and eventually I go back to sleep. In the mornings I see you, and that keeps me going for another day.”

Dean considered and murmured, “Day at a time.”

“Exactly. You should try it, too. You’ve been through more than any of us. We lost you to Michael, and that was bad for us, but you were the one that was actually taken. That’s got to give you nightmares, too.”

“No. No nightmares.” Dean pulled his hand out from under hers and gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t remember it at all and I don’t dream about any of it. It’s just Sam.”

Mary didn’t know her son as well as she once had, but she knew Dean was lying. For whatever reason he hid it, he remembered more than he was telling them about what Michael had done to him while he had him.

She chose not to point out his lie, though, and said, “Then that’s easier for you to cope with. You _know_ for a fact that Sam won’t leave you now. As long as you live, so will he.”

“Yeah, as long as _I_ live, but what if something happens to me? It’s not just what he will do if I die that scares me now the way it used to; it’s that I will take him with me when I go. A lucky monster could take us both out in one go if it wanted to.”

“Yes,” she said carefully, trying not to show the pain in her heart that his words brought about. “It could happen, though not if I have anything to do with it, but when it’s over, you will be together again. You’ll have Heaven.”

Dean scoffed. “Heaven. Yeah, that’s gonna be a riot.”

“No, Dean,” Mary soothed. “Heaven is everything. Truly.”

Dean shot her a sympathetic look. “I’ve been there before, Mom. In our Apocalypse, me and Sam were killed, and we went to Heaven. It wasn’t the same for us as it was for you. We didn’t see much, that dick Zachariah was chasing us down so he could send us back, but I saw enough to know it’s not some reward.” He turned to stare out of the windshield and said, his voice unmistakably bitter, “Sam’s heaven wasn’t like mine was. He had some other family’s Thanksgiving. He had the place he went when he ran away from me and Dad. He had the night he told us about going to college, the worst argument he and Dad ever had which ended with Dad telling him never to come back. He didn’t have me.”

Mary closed her eyes and willed back the tears that wanted to spring at the words her son was speaking and the pain in his face as he said them. Heaven was perfect for her, and she’d imagined that it would be for her sons, too, but Sam’s heaven sounded like Dean’s nightmare.

“Maybe it was… wrong,” Mary said, grappling for reassurances. “That’s not Sam, not the Sam I know. Maybe in that moment, that was what he thought of as heaven, because things were so bad then, but really it’s you.” An idea occurred to her. “You said Zachariah was there. He was in that other world, too. He was the one that tried to trick Jack with visions. He was twisted and cruel. How do you know he didn’t do that to you and Sam, too? You could have seen things Sam treasured in a part of his mind, a real family holiday and the moment he left hunting behind and started the life he’d wanted, but that couldn’t have been it all. Zachariah took the things he wanted you to see and hid the good parts.”

She hadn’t been convinced by what she was saying when she started, but the more she said, the more sense it made. Sam and Dean were the vessels destined for Michael and Lucifer so they could do battle. The angels needed them divided and willing, and what better way than to show them what should have bound them together as an image of them apart

Dean looked doubtful at first, but the words seemed to seep into him and he started to smile. It was an unusual expression on her son’s face as it was more than a show of simple pleasure; it was closer to actual joy. Something that had hurt him for years was breaking apart and being seen again through new eyes.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “It could be.”

“It _was,_ I’m sure.”

Dean nodded. “Maybe.” He shrugged. “It’s something to hope for anyway. If we do end up there again, together, instead of downstairs in the Pit, it could work out okay.” His tone was mild, but his eyes betrayed his true happiness. Mary thought she’d just—unknowingly at first—given her son the greatest gift.

Mary just watched him for a moment, and then movement drew her eyes to the road and she ducked in her seat and hissed at Dean to do the same. She watched over the dashboard as an old truck drove past them and along the cracked and weed-ridden road that led to the factory they were staking out.

Two men climbed out then went to the truck bed and hauled out a limp female figure. Her long hair hung down as one of them hefted her over his shoulder and carried her towards the factory door. Even at the distance, Mary could see the fanged teeth that descended from and out of the second figure’s mouth. They were unquestionably vampires.

When the factory door slammed behind them, they sat up and Dean pulled out his phone and dialed. It was answered after only a moment and he spoke quickly, “Sam, we’ve found them. They’re here.” He listened for a moment and then said, “They’ve got at least one victim in there with them, yeah. Two we saw, but there might be more inside. Drive fast, Sammy.” He frowned. “No, we won’t go in alone if you hurry your asses over here.” He ended the call and sighed.

“We are _not_ going in alone,” Mary said sternly.

“No,” Dean agreed. “It’s probably going to cost that woman’s life if it hasn’t already, but if we go in there and we’re taken out…”

He didn’t need to finish. If they died, if _he_ died, Sam would, too, and Dean wouldn’t risk that.

Mary wanted to save that woman if they could, but she would not sacrifice her sons for it.

xXx

As soon as Mary’s car pulled up behind them. Dean got out of the Impala and went to the trunk to get the weapons. Sam met him there, and they both selected machetes as Mary collected something from her own trunk.

“You okay?” Sam asked, his tone no longer as irritated as it had been when he was talking to Dean at breakfast. In fact, he sounded solicitous now: the way he always did before trying to force Dean into a heart-to-heart conversation.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “You?”

Sam frowned slightly but said, “Yeah, I’m good,” sounding confident.

Dean slammed the trunk as Mary came back to them with a machete in one hand and a silver cylinder in the other.

Castiel drew his angel blade and held it up to the light. “Are we ready?” he asked.

“More than,” Dean said.

“What’s that, Mom?” Sam asked.

“The Men of Letters called it an Anti-Vampire Device. I found some in the bunker stores. It’s got some toxin in it that killed the vampires we were chasing across the Midwest. I don’t know if it will work on these if they’re powered up like the werewolves we faced in Sioux Falls, but it can’t hurt to try. The smoke is thick, but it won’t hurt us. I breathed in more than my share when I was using them.”

Sam nodded eagerly, but Dean was doubtful. They probably wouldn’t work against these vampires, and smoke would be a pain in the ass to fight in, but they had to try it. If he could avoid Sam having to actually fight, he would be happier. 

“How are we going in?” Castiel asked.

“We’ll check the back for another door,” Mary said. “There’s got to be more than one door for a place this big. You and Sam take the front and Dean and I will go round the back. I’ll throw in the AVD and start shouting. When you hear it, get in there and start slashing.”

Sam lifted his machete, resting the edge on his shoulder, and said, “Ready.”

He seemed eager for the fight, and Dean had to remind himself of what Mary had said about letting Sam test himself to stop him reminding Sam to be careful and to let Castiel take the lead. At least, he thought, Sam was with Castiel, and Dean knew the angel would die to protect any of them. Sam was in the best position he could be. Dean just had to be careful of himself, too.

Dean patted Sam on the shoulder and then waited while Mary gave him a quick hug before leading her around the back of the factory. They didn’t have to go far to find another door. There was one around the side marked _Fire Exit_. Dean tested the door and found that it was unlocked, and he nodded to his mother who lifted the AVD capsule and whispered, “Good to go.”

Dean counted down from five on his fingers and then, when he reached zero, he yanked open the door and stepped back so Mary could throw in the capsule. There was a bang and cries of shock, then, shouting as loud as he could, Dean ran into the smoky air, his machete raised and ready to strike.

The smoke was too thick to see through at first, and Dean didn’t dare attack the shapes inside in case they were Sam or Castiel, but it quickly cleared, sinking to the floor in a strange reversal of natural smoke, and he got a good view of what he was walking in to.

The space was cavernous, and there was rusted machinery in the center of the room, but a wide clear area in front of the doors Sam and Castiel had entered, both shouting.

There were six vampires that he could see, and they seemed confused by the sudden noise and smoke filling the room, but they quickly gathered themselves and made to attack.

One, the tallest, made for Dean, and he braced himself to swing when it was close enough, but the vampire was faster than he’d expected.

Dean lost track of the sounds of fighting around him as the vampire slammed a fist into his gut. It knocked him back a few steps and drove the air from him, but he didn’t let it stop him. He swept the machete through the air, feeling the satisfying impact as his blade found its mark, and then the warm spatter of blood on his face as the vampire’s head was sliced free of its neck and the pieces dropped to the concrete floor, partially occluded by smoke.

He looked around for his next target and saw Mary locked in on her own vampire, her blade cutting into its neck at an awkward angle that was nonetheless still effective, decapitating it.

His eyes found Sam and saw his blade was bloody and there was a dead vampire at his feet, but he seemed distracted. His hand was on his stomach and he was pale. There was also a vampire approaching him from behind.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, running towards him. “Behind you!”

In a movement that was almost as fast as the vampire’s that had attacked him, Dean saw Sam spin on his heel and swing the machete. Dean reached him as the pieces of his attacker fell.

Sam’s hand came back to his stomach and Dean asked, “You okay?”

“Lucky punch,” Sam said, his eyes raking the room. “Mom! Not the head!”

Dean followed his gaze and saw Mary was facing off with the last living vampire, Castiel approaching at her side with his own bloody blade poised to attack.

Dean didn’t wait for Sam to explain why he didn’t want the vampire dead; he rushed towards his mother as she redirected her swing and chopped off the vampire’s right arm, making it scream with pain and fall to the floor.

Sam ran toward it and, with a shout of rage, he swung the machete at the vampire, chopping off its leg at the knee.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Mary asked.

He stepped back panting and said, “We need to talk to it.” He looked around the room, his face pale and intense. He waved the thin smoke that remained in his eyes away and then strode around the machine with a rough sound of anger.

Dean followed him and saw what Sam was seeking. The woman he’d seen being carried into the factory was lying on the smoky floor, her head at an unnatural angle that could only come of a broken neck.

“Damn,” he muttered. “They must have finished her off when they heard us coming.”

“Bastards,” Sam spat.

Though Dean knew they’d done the right thing waiting for them all to go in together, he felt guilty that they’d not been in time to save this woman.

Sam walked back to the vampire and kicked the bleeding stump of its leg, making it cry out in pain. Its pain only seemed to last a moment, and then it grinned up at them, the obscene overlarge fangs protruding from its mouth.

Mary touched Sam’s arm, a gesture of calm and comfort, and Sam nodded, his hand coming to his gut again.

“Are you okay?” Mary asked him.

Sam nodded. “Just sore. I took a punch to the gut. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Dean asked, wary of the damage a punch from a vampire as strong as these could have done to Sam’s healing injury, but Sam nodded. He dropped the machete then grabbed the vampire’s remaining arm and dragged it towards the machine behind it. Dean got on its other side and helped with his hand twisted in the collar. They propped the vampire against a thick pipe.

The vampire looked up at them and laughed as its fangs shrank back into its mouth. “You’re going to die for this, you know.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same to you,” Dean growled. “I don’t see you coming for us any time soon. What are you going to do, hop?”

The vampire narrowed its eyes. “ _He’s_ going to come for me.”

Sam frowned. “He?”

The vampire looked rapturous as it said, “Michael will come.”

“Good,” Dean said brutally. “I’d like to see him again.”

Though what he would do if he did was a question that he had no answer to. He wanted to kill him painfully for what he had done to him, what he had done to Sam, but he knew he had no way or weapon to do that. Perhaps Mary was thinking the same thing as she shifted nervously at his side and Dean moved closer to brush her arm with his hand without it looking like an outward sign of comfort; he didn’t want the vampire spotting their weakness.  

“Why would Michael come for you?” Sam asked, “What makes you special?”

“So much,” the vampire said. “I belong to him now. He blessed me with this.”

“The teeth,” Mary said.

“And the strength and speed,” it added. “Don’t forget them.” It frowned at Dean. “I thought you were him. Why did he leave you?”

“He had no choice,” Sam said brutally. “He got evicted.”

The vampire grinned. “He’ll be back.

“How did he do this to you?” Dean asked.

“Don’t you remember?” it asked. “You were there after all.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m a little vague on that time. You’ll have to remind me. What did he do?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the vampire, seeming to be looking right through him the way he usually did when he was examining Sam. “He gave you grace.”

“Yes,” the vampire hissed. “He made me his child. He made all of us his children.”

Sam’s eyes widened for a moment before he schooled his expression into calm again. “All vampires look like you now?”

“Not all of us. He chose the best to begin with. He is working his way through us though, finding us all and making us his. And we’re doing our part. We can’t make them his true children the way we are, but our blood creates stronger legacies than you have faced in all your years of hunting my kind. Soon, we will all be touched by him.”

“When did he do this?” Castiel asked.

“Months ago. He set me free to spread the story and blood.”

“Months,” Mary said thoughtfully.

Dean nodded. He understood the implications, too. If Michael had done this when he was using Dean as a vessel, it might mean that he hadn’t found a new one yet.

“Why did he do it?” Sam asked. “What does he want you for?”

The vampire closed its eyes and a look of exquisite joy spread over its face. “He’s is remaking the world in his image. We are going to rule the sheep of humanity and make them our slaves. And you… you’re all going to die. He will be here soon.”

“I really doubt that,” Dean said.

The vampire laughed. “I don’t.”

Sam shrugged. “If he’s coming, we should leave him something good to find.” He looked from face to face and asked, “Do we need anything else from him?” They all shook their heads and Sam grinned. “Good.”

He picked up his machete from the ground and stepped toward the vampire whose eyes widened as he said, “He won’t let you do this!”

“Of course he will,” Sam said. “You’re just cannon fodder to him. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone.” He swung the machete and the vampire cringed away, toppling to the side so it landed hard on its bleeding stump of an arm and its head hit the floor.

Sam correct his aim and slammed down as if cutting a piece of wood. The head rolled away and Sam kicked at it savagely.

Mary caught his arm and said, “It’s over Sam.”

Sam drew a deep breath in through his nose and said, “Yeah. It’s done. I’m getting her out and then we can burn this place.”

He walked around the machine and lifted the dead woman into his arms. Mary rushed to open the door for him, and when it swung closed behind them, Dean spoke in an urgent whisper. “Is he okay, Cas?”

“He’s angry.”

“No, I mean physically. He said he took a punch to the gut. He’s still healing inside and…”

“He’s fine,” Castiel said. “The internal healing is done. The grace has done its job there.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “The grace… Yeah. Great. Thank you, Castiel.”

Castiel frowned. “What are you thanking me for?”

“The grace,” Dean said. “I know it’s got to be weird for you, not being at full charge still, but without it, we’d never have Sam like this.”

Castiel smiled, but it seemed forced. “I would do it all again, everything I have done and am doing, to protect all of you.”

Something seemed off in the way he said it, as if there was more meaning in what he was saying than the words communicated. He wondered for a moment if there was more that Castiel had done that they didn’t know. He looked at his friend for a moment, wondering whether to push for more, but Sam and Mary came back in carrying cans of gasoline and wearing dark expressions, and the moment passed. 


	20. Chapter 20

**_Chapter Twenty_ **

****

Bobby leaned back in his chair and blew out a deep breath. “Super monsters. Actual monsters stuffed full of archangel grace and running free.”

Sam nodded.

“And we don’t know how many there are?”

“No idea,” Dean said. “And they’re making their own. They’re not as strong as the ones Michael is making, but they’re stronger than usual, and the vamps we’ve been facing our wholes lives aren’t exactly a cakewalk.”

“No, they’re not,” Bobby agreed. “Hell, I thought the rabid vamps we had in our own world were bad, but they were just crazy and hungry. They weren’t turbocharged. What the hell are we going to do?”

“Treat every monster we come across with even more caution than usual,” Mary said. “And just go for heads. It’s the only thing that will stop any monster. We don’t have silver or dead man’s blood to rely on now. It’s our skill pitched against their strength.”

Sam looked away. He was feeling uncomfortable under the level of tension in the room. They’d faced a lot in their lives, they’d saved the world more than once, and they had more people on their side than they’d had in a long time, but this fight… He was scared it was going to be too much. This wasn’t just Michael alone, which was a huge threat; he was creating an army, too.

“Sammy?” Dean elbowed him and Sam’s attention snapped back to the room.

“Sorry, what?”

Bobby frowned. “I was saying this might work out in our favor. If the monsters have archangel grace in them, they might be able to use that archangel blade you boys have. It’s got to be an archangel that wields it, but if they’ve got his grace… Maybe we could persuade or force one of them to do it.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and both shook their heads.

“Gabriel,” Dean said.

“What about him?” Mary asked.

“When he went to that world with us, he had the archangel blade, but he couldn’t use it because he didn’t have enough grace left after Asmodeus drained him and he gave most of what he had to open the rift,” Dean said.

“It’s got to be pure, powered archangel,” Sam said.

“Or me,” Jack said.

“I don’t know, kid,” Dean said. “You aren’t an archangel.”

“No, I’m more powerful than one.”

“At the height of your power, yeah, but you’re not there right now,” Dean said.

Jack’s face fell and he looked down at the tabletop. Sam shot Dean an admonishing look and said, “It’s not that you’re weak, Jack, it’s that none of us want to risk you on what could be a suicide mission.”

Jack nodded but didn’t look up. Sam felt bad for him. He knew what it felt like to be benched and, even worse, weakened. He’d been in that position more than once in his life, but he wasn’t going to risk Jack just to make him feel better.  

“I am getting stronger,” Jack said. “My grace is coming back.”

“That’s great,” Sam said. “Really, but you’ve got to be all the way back before you can tackle Michael.”

Jack pushed his chair back and said, “I’ve got some stuff to do. I’ll see you later.”

Sam watched him plod from the room, his head bowed, and felt a wave of pity for him. That had been him only days ago, fighting to get back to what he was, and it had been so much easier for him as it had happened faster. They had no idea how long it would take Jack to get back his full strength.

And Sam had to admit, even he himself wasn’t there yet, if he was ever going to be. There was some kind of issue with his brain injury, he was losing time and wandering around the bunker without being aware of it, and he was feeling the hits Dean was getting. No, he wasn’t there, and he didn’t know if he ever would be. This could be it for him.

“Did the vampire have any news on what Michael is doing now?” Bobby asked.

“He hadn’t seen him in weeks,” Dean said. “Not since he was riding me.” He cracked his knuckles. “It might be that he hasn’t gotten himself a new vessel yet.”

“Or he’s not the type to visit his children,” Bobby said.

“Or that, yeah,” Dean agreed.

“We need to get the word out,” Mary said. “If hunters are going to come up against these things, they’ve got to be warned. They need to know to go for the heads. I’ll start making calls.”

“I’ll let my people know,” Bobby said, then, seeing Sam’s confusion, said, “They’re hunting now.”

Sam felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t given much thought to the rest of Bobby’s people for a while. They weren’t there to see, and so they didn’t register among everything else that was going on. He should have asked though. He’d been busy before, and then sick, but he’d not had that excuse while he was home healing, and he hadn’t thought of them once.

“Sorry,” he said. “I should have asked.”

Bobby shrugged. “You’ve had a lot going on. And Ketch and I are handling it.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sam asked.

Bobby brightened. “Actually, yeah. They could do with some time in your gun range and gym. We’ve taken over a packing plant warehouse in town, but we’re limited with what we can do there. They soon get bored using sacks of cans as weights.”

“Of course,” Sam said. “Whatever you need. The bunker is open to you all. They can use the library, too. I think we have pretty much every book about monsters ever written.”

“Thanks,” Bobby said. “I’ll head out now and tell them.”

“And I’ll make my calls,” Mary said.

They both stood from the table and left the room, Mary going towards the bedrooms and Bobby to the door. Sam watched them go and then met Dean’s curious eyes. He realized he’d just given over twenty people free rein to use their home. Dean would understand why, but Sam should have asked his opinion first.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “I figure we should help them as much as we can.”

“We should,” Dean agreed. “But the place is going to be filled with strangers. Is that okay with you?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s not _okay_ , but I don’t see that we’ve really got a choice. If Michael is filling the world with super monsters, we’re going to need all the hunters we can get to stop them. Besides, these are Bobby’s people. He always opened his home to us. We should do the same for him.”

“Not _that_ Bobby,” Dean said pointedly. “They might look and sound the same, but they’re not. He’s not family.”

“I know,” Sam said, only partially honestly.

He was aware that he hadn’t gotten the man he’d loved like a father back, but this Bobby was so close to that man that the lines sometimes blurred. Sam liked having him around. It made him miss his Bobby a little less.

Dean shrugged and turned to Castiel who had sat as a silent observer to the conversation. He looked troubled, even more than usual, and Sam sensed that there was something going on with him that he wasn’t sharing.

“What do you think, Cas?” Dean asked.

Castiel startled as if coming out of a daze. “I think Sam is right. We need all the hunters we can get. Michael is dangerous alone, but with an army… We saw what he did to that world. We don’t know what he's planning for this one. If surrounding ourselves with strangers is going to do something to stack the odds in our favor, it’s what we have to do.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said tiredly. “I just liked this being our place to come and close the rest out. The world is literally going to hell fast and having somewhere that was home was good.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “We better get it ready for them. Come on, Sammy, you can help me unload the weapons stores. We’ve got a few thousand clips they’re going to need for target practice.”

“On it,” Sam said, getting to his feet. “You coming Cas?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, there is something I need to do. I will be back soon.”

“Everything okay?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said quickly, and if Sam was right, untruthfully. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly, getting up and walking out of the room.

Sam gave Castiel a small smile, which was returned and then followed his brother. Dean was waiting just a little along the hall, leaning against the wall. “It’s definitely something to worry about,” he stated when Sam reached him.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “But he’s not sharing yet. We’re going to have to wait for him to open up.”

“Which has ended so well for us in the past,” Dean said with a raised eyebrow. “No, Sammy, we’re not doing the wait-and-see thing this time. We’re going straight to thumbscrews. Let him do his mystery whatever today, and tomorrow we’re sitting him down and talking. Agreed?”

Sam considered a moment and then nodded. He wanted to give Castiel privacy to work whatever was bothering him out on his own, but he wasn’t sure they could. It really hadn’t ended well before, and there was already too much going on to deal with without opening themselves up to more.

They needed to know what was going on.  

xXx

Castiel stood outside Sam’s bedroom, listening to the sounds of the bunker at rest: the hum of the HVAC, the rumble of pipes, the tick of a clock inside Sam’s bedroom. He was waiting for something as he had been waiting almost all night, and he would wait every night until he had done what he needed to do.

It took another hour before he heard movement within the bedroom, and he pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against and waited for the door to open. It did and he saw the face he’d been expecting; he stepped forward into her space and said, “We need to talk, Jo.”

She backed inside and Castiel followed her in, clicking the door closed behind him.

“It’s not what you think, Castiel,” she said. “I’m not taking him for a test-drive.”

“Then what are you doing? Because it’s not what you said you would do—leave him in peace, stay hidden, just heal.”

Jo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Look at me, Castiel.”

“I am,” Castiel ground out through his teeth, his anger rising like a tide. “That’s the problem. I should only be seeing Sam.”

“No, really look. Tell me what you see in Sam.”

Castiel focused, trying to see through Jo to the physical body beneath. It was hard as she shone so bright, but when he did, he realized what was wrong and he gasped. “I thought you were healing him.”

“I am _trying_ , but it’s not as easy as I thought. There is so much damage in here, and I’m struggling to deal with it all. I just don’t have the power. Only an archangel would. I am keeping him going, doing what I can, but all I’m really doing is fighting against the damage that’s there. He’s alive because of Dean, but he’s functioning because of me.”

Castiel was horrified. He’d comforted himself that Jo was only a temporary presence, that Sam would be healed and she would leave him; he would be able to stop lying to the people he loved. But with the way Sam was, the limitations Jo had, he didn’t think Sam would be fit to be alone in a lifetime. 

He forced down how he was feeling and addressed it in facts. “So there is more to do—”

She scoffed. “Yeah, just a little.”

“—but that doesn’t explain what you’re doing out now,” Castiel said. “Why are you taking control again? And why had you been doing it before? Sam has noticed. He was worried, scared that he was a vessel again. I had to lie to him. Do you know what that feels like?”

“Honestly, no, I don’t have your connections, Castiel, but I can tell it’s hard. Just looking at you shows me that. But I’m doing my best to end that, to heal Sam so I can get back to having a life. I’ve been taking over so I can look for something that will do the job for me.”

“Something like what?” Castiel asked.

“I thought perhaps a Hand of God. They have so much in this place that they don’t know or care about, rooms full of it. I was hoping I’d find something they’d missed. If I could just find something God had touched, it would make me stronger, and I could heal him.”

“There isn’t a Hand of God here, Jo. We would know it. You and I would sense it.”

Jo threw up her hands. “Then I don’t know what to do! I can’t fix him.”

“You can’t leave!” Castiel said quickly, his hand reaching automatically toward her as if he could keep her inside by force. “He’ll be ruined.”

As awful as it was to lie to the Winchesters, it was better than the alternative. He could see the damage in Sam and knew that Jo was telling the truth—she was keeping him functioning. Without her, Sam would be worse than dead.

“I can’t stay forever, Castiel,” she said. “Call me selfish, but I have a life to live, too.”

Castiel turned away. She was being selfish, but he understood it. She wasn’t family to Sam and Dean the way he was. She wasn’t even a friend. There was no reason for her to give up her freedom for them. But that was exactly what he needed her to do.

“It’s not forever, Jo,” he said. “It’s just until Dean dies. You have lived for eons. Can’t you just give time for a while to allow Sam Winchester to have a life? He has more than earned that after everything he has done. And we need him and Dean together. Michael must be stopped, and they’re the only men I believe can find a way to do that. Please!”

Jo turned away and stared into the mirror above the basin, her true face shining beneath Sam’s, and she frowned. “You’re asking too much, Castiel.”

Castiel’s heart lurched but he managed to keep his voice even as he said, “I am not asking for anything that’s not owed to the Winchesters. It’s one human lifetime for the sake of the world and the men that have given everything to it.”

They stood in silence for a long time, Castiel forcing himself not to push her in the direction he dreaded by begging and pleading, arguing and angering her.

“Okay,” she said eventually. “I won’t leave him yet.”

“Yet?” Castiel asked cautiously.

“I am making no promises about how long I’ll stay, but I will stay at least long enough for Michael to be stopped. The world deserves that.”

Castiel would have said—honestly—that the Winchesters deserved it as much if not more, but he thought that would anger her and risk her abandoning Sam already. He had a reprieve, a stay of execution, and he was going to use that time to find a way to persuade Jo to give them longer. 

 “There is one thing though, Castiel.”

“What?” Castiel asked, his hands twitching nervously.

“I can only stay as long as he lets me. Sam is fighting me. He’s not aware of it, but even now, as I am talking to you, I can feel him resisting me. This body and mind know what it is to be a vessel and both times have been traumatic. They’re automatically fighting me.”

“Then don’t give him a reason to fight you,” Castiel said. “Let him stay in control. If you’re quiet, stay down and just focus on healing what you can, keeping him going, he will have no reason to know you’re there. He won’t need to fight.”

“Do you know what that means for me? I will be able to do nothing in here, not even move on my own. It will just be me and Sam’s thoughts.”

Castiel nodded. “Which is exactly what will happen to Sam if you leave him.”

She sighed. “I’ll keep my promise, I’ll stay here and I’ll stay hidden, but you have to look for a solution. Maybe there’s not a Hand of God, but there might be something else, some spell or amulet or _something_. You need to focus on finding that. Understand.”

“I will,” Castiel said seriously. “I would do that anyway.”

“Good,” she said. “Then I will—”

Her eyes widened and she seemed to be locked in a silent battle for a moment before her face was replaced by Sam’s alone and he looked around the room, confusion quickly replaced by disappointment.

“It happened again,” he stated.

Castiel took a breath, a moment to catch up to what was happening, and then he said, “Yes, I’m sorry, Sam. I heard you moving around when I was passing your room, so I came to check on you. You were just standing there for less than a minute.”

“Yeah. Okay. Well, thanks for checking on me,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

Castiel smiled sadly. “I’m sorry this is happening, Sam. I would stop it if I could.”

“I know,” Sam said. “And it could be so much worse, like you said. This is just a hiccup from the damage. And it might stop when my brain’s rewired.” He shrugged. “I’m just complaining. Ignore me.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over his face.

“Do you want me to leave you to sleep, Sam?”

“Yeah, maybe that would be a good idea. Actually, no. I wanted to talk to you, Cas, and it’s probably better that we do it without Dean.”

Castiel came deeper into the room and said, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s what’s wrong with you that’s got us both worried. You’ve been kinda distant, distracted, like you’ve got something going on that you’re not telling us about. We’re worried about you.”

Castiel grappled for an excuse for his behavior. He couldn’t tell Sam that it was the weight of the secret he was keeping that was troubling him. Sam couldn’t know there was a secret at all. He stumbled upon an idea and ran with it.

“It’s you, Sam. It troubled me how worried you were about these absences, and I thought that if I could find a way to show you there was nothing to worry about, other instances of it happening, it would help. I’ve been researching.”

Sam frowned. “Hold on. You’ve been basically studying medicine to make me feel better?”

“Yes.”

Sam laughed softly. “Cas, man, I appreciate it, but really, you don’t need to do that, I feel better since talking to you about it. I hate it when it happens, but I know it’s just something I’ve got to suck it up and deal with until it stops. And you were right—it’s medical. I get it now, so you don’t have to go researching anything or start stressing. I’m fine.”

The way he so easily accepted the lie was as much as a relief as it was a curse to Castiel. It put him even lower down the ladder of Sam’s trust; it was one more thing that would destroy what he shared with Sam if he ever found out the truth.

Though he never could.

Castiel realized that wouldn’t happen now. If Jo didn’t stay with Sam for the extent of Dean’s life, Sam would not be in a position to share anything again. If Jo was gone, Castiel was going to lose everything he had with Sam, as he would lose Sam himself.

“—something to tell, Dean.”

Castiel started as he realized Sam had been talking. “Something to tell Dean?” he asked.

“Wow, you really did vague out. I thought that was my trick. I was saying I’ll come up with something to tell Dean about what’s been up with you. He’s been worried, too.” He tapped his finger on his knee. “Maybe it’s the Michael thing. He’s kinda your brother, right? And your brothers have a habit of letting the world down. We can tell Dean you’ve just been tying yourself up in knots about that and that we’ve talked it out. He’ll buy it.”

Michael wasn’t really Castiel’s brother, not his world’s, but he thought that didn’t matter if Dean believed it. And Sam was right; his brothers had failed the world again and again, even though some of them tried to help. Castiel had done the same.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure that will work. And it will be better now that I know you’re okay.”

At least he would find a way to hide it better.

“Great,” Sam said.

Castiel smiled. “I will let you sleep now. There is not much night left.”

Sam swung his legs onto the bed and said, “Okay. Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel raised a hand in farewell and slipped out of the room, easing the door closed quietly behind him.

He had averted a problem by covering his lies with Sam again, but there was a far greater one to be faced. He needed to find a way to make Jo stay or he needed to find a way to heal Sam. And he had to do it without the notice of the other people in the bunker. No one could know what he was doing. His lies were a pack of cards and he was building them into a carefully balanced house.

One breath of wind, one misplaced word or careless moment of honesty, was going to bring it crashing down.


	21. Chapter 21

**_Chapter Twenty-One_ **

 

Dean looked at the stack of coffee cups that he’d just washed beside the sink and sighed as he thought of what they represented—a full bunker.

He hadn’t been happy when Sam had opened up the place to Bobby’s people, though he saw the need and knew it was the right thing to do, but now that they were all there, it was so much harder.

Even now, late on a Sunday afternoon, they were all there. Ketch had a group of them in the gym working out with the weights and punching bag. Dean didn’t think weight training was something they needed; they were already pretty strong. The lives they’d lived in that world had forced them to be fast and strong to survive. He’d taken on a few of them in sparring sessions at Ketch’s request, and if he didn’t have years of technique to fall back on, he thought they would have beaten him. The only human he was used to being challenged by was Sam, and they didn’t spar often.

He offered himself up now though to save Sam doing it. He said he’d healed and wasn’t in pain anymore, but Dean still wasn’t happy with the idea of him brawling unless he needed to. He might feel healed on the outside, but the inside was what worried him; Sam was missing enough inside that they needed to be careful to protect what was left.

He encouraged Sam to take care of the book learning and gun range and concentrated on the physical himself. He did a little in the range, too, showing the various weapons they had. One of Bobby’s people, a man in his early thirties called Heath, showed signs of being good and had even expressed a desire to test out the grenade launcher. Dean thought he could really get to like him—though there was no way he was sharing that beauty. He was the only one that got to blow things up.

Realizing he’d been hiding too long, he threw the cloth down on top of the cups, figuring they could dry in the air, and wandered out of the kitchen and through to the library.

Mary was sitting at one of the tables with a young woman Dean remembered was called Maggie. They had two laptops open in front of them and Mary was explaining something. Dean listened long enough to understand that Mary was teaching her how to hack traffic cameras. It sounded like it was slow going. There were a few other people dotted around on the more comfortable chairs with books on their laps.

It reassured Dean that the people that were invading his home were making the most of the place, but it still made him long for the days when it was quieter there. He would never regret having Mary, Castiel, and Jack around, they were family, but life had been easier when it was just him and Sam in the place. He didn’t think they were getting back to it being a family place for a while, if ever. Sam seemed to be enjoying having these people around, and Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he kept it up, helping them when they were more competent and out there taking hunts, as some kind of base of operations for them.

“Dean,” Mary said, looking up from her computer as Dean approached. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dean said with forced cheer. “Just looking for Sammy.”

“I think he was going to the gym with Ketch.”

Dean scowled. “He’s fighting?”

Mary frowned. “I don’t know, but even if he is…”

Dean held up a hand. “Yeah, I know; it’s his choice and he needs to test himself. I heard you last time. That doesn’t make it any less stupid.”

“That’s for him to decide.”

Dean felt the eyes of the other people in the room on him and he forced himself to smile. “You’re right, it is. I’ll leave him to it.”

Mary looked reassured and said, “Okay. Do you want to help us here? Sam says you know a few tricks.”

Dean wanted to at least check in on Sam. “I can’t right now. I’ve got to talk to Cas. I probably don’t know anything you didn’t learn with the British assholes though. If you want real knowledge, you need to give Charlie a call. Our Charlie was a damn computer genius.”

“She was in our world, too,” Maggie supplied. “She worked for Richard Roman Enterprises before it all ended.”

“Then she’s the woman you need,” Dean said.

Mary nodded. “She should be back soon. She and Rowena were working their way back through New Mexico last I heard.”

Dean felt better that Rowena was on her way, too. Apart from Jack, she was the only one that had hurt an archangel even a little, though that had been Lucifer and he hadn’t been at his full strength at the time. Still, it would be good to have some magical backup. As good as things were for everyone else in the bunker, as many new hunters were being trained, Michael was the real threat, and none of them had a way to stop him or even know where he was.

“New Mexico,” he mused. “I hope they make it to Tinkertown.”

“Tinkertown?” Mary asked.

Dean laughed softly. “It’s this museum Dad used to leave us in while he went to work when we were passing through Albuquerque. It had this crazy Wild West stuff and all these toys. Sam loved it.”

“That sounds like a story,” Mary said, a fond smile at the corners of her lips.

“It is,” Dean agreed. “I’ll tell Sam to search up the snapshots.”

Mary nodded, looking pleased. Dean guessed the more ‘normal’ memories of their life without her had special meaning to her, the way that the stories she had of him and Sam when they were young with her were special to them. There weren’t many to tell for any of them as they’d not had much time, but what there was mattered to them all.

“I’ll go find him,” he said, walking away and making for the halls that would lead to the gym. He thought it would be a good way to get Sam away from the fight training, and it would give him a kick to spend some quality time with their mom, too.

As he passed Jack’s bedroom, he heard voices through the open door that made him stop and listen for a moment.

“That’s good, Jack, but don’t force it,” Castiel said. “There’s time and you’re tired.”

“I’ve got it,” Jack said, his voice strained.

Dean pushed open the door and peered in. Castiel and Jack were facing away from him, Jack’s hands outstretched and golden light pulsing from his hands to the wall opposite. He was shaking slightly and Castiel had his hand on his shoulder.

He was surprised to see the show of Jack’s power as he’d had no idea he’d gotten this much of it back yet. Neither of them had told him or Sam about it, and he felt oddly annoyed, as if this secret belonged to them all.

Jack’s hands dropped to his sides and he drew a deep breath. “I did it, Cas.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, making them both turn, “you did.”

Jack looked pleased but Castiel oddly guilty.

“I didn’t know you could do this again,” Dean went on.

“I’ve not been able to do it for long,” Jack said. “But it’s coming back. I’m getting strong again, Dean.” His eyes shone with excitement despite the way they were shadowed with exhaustion.

“Looks like you’ve done enough for today, though,” Dean said. “You should rest.”

Jack stared into his eyes, a frown on his brow. “Are you angry about something?”

“No,” Dean said quickly. “I was just… I figured you would have told us if you were doing this kind of stuff.”

“I was going to,” Jack said, “but Castiel thought—”

“I thought it was better to not get your hopes up,” Castiel said, cutting him off. “We don’t know if he’s going to get more than this back, and Michael is a threat but…”

Dean glared at him. “And you thought we might send him up against Michael anyway? Like you didn’t hear what Sam said the other day about not sending Jack on a suicide mission? You don’t think I’d be thinking the same?”

“No!”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes. I just wanted to protect you.”

Dean didn’t believe him. He had known Castiel was hiding something, and now he thought he knew what it _really_ was—not the crap he’d told Sam about being ashamed of Michael and what he was doing, expecting more of one of his brothers—Castiel thought they’d sacrifice Jack to stop him.

“We don’t need protecting, Cas,” Dean said. “And we’re not going to let Jack get hurt.”

“I know,” Castiel said. “I don’t doubt how much you care about him.”

Dean nodded stiffly, unconvinced but not wanting to extend the discussion in front of Jack while he was pissed. He didn’t want to upset the kid. “Then no more secrets. We all need to know what Jack is doing and how much power he’s getting back.”

“No more secrets,” Castiel agreed. “We will tell you everything.”

Dean stared into his eyes, searching for a lie, but he couldn’t see one. Despite that, he wasn’t sure he believed him. Castiel was a competent liar as they’d discovered in the past. It was never done maliciously, but it still happened. If Castiel was lying to Sam about what was troubling him, lying to Dean now, it was probably going to end badly.

“Get some rest, Jack,” he said. “I’ll make sure you wake up for dinner. Cas, you got a minute?”

Castiel nodded and followed Dean out into the hall. Dean walked down to an empty room and pushed open the door and gestured Castiel inside. Looking uncomfortable, Castiel entered and waited for Dean to come in and close the door behind him before saying, “I know I should have told you about Jack. I was just being overcautious. He’s just so eager to help and Michael is so dangerous, I was worried.”

“I know just how dangerous he is,” Dean said. “I was the one he was riding when he stabbed my brother. I was the one that…”

He stopped himself from saying that he was the one that let it happen. Castiel would argue, and he didn’t want to hear it. He also didn’t want Castiel to use the conversation to divert him from what needed to be said.

“Look, Cas, you’re family, my brother, and I trust you, but I’m not stupid. You might have fooled Sam, but I know this is about more than Michael. It’s about Jack. We will _not_ put him up against Michael unless we’re sure he can handle it, and definitely not before he’s at full power. You say no more secrets, but I don’t believe you. If there is something else you’re hiding from us, we need to know.”

“There is nothing,” Castiel said without hesitation. “And I _will_ be open with you in the future. No more secrets.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted to believe Castiel, but he wasn’t sure he could. There was nothing else he could do though apart from watch him and set Sam and their mother on their guard, too. He didn’t like to do it, it felt like he was betraying Castiel, but he just couldn’t trust him to tell them everything if he felt like he was doing the right thing hiding it.

Castiel opened his mouth, his eyes wide and imploring, and then he snapped it shut again and shook his head sadly. “I have made mistakes, and I should have told you about Jack, but it will be the last thing I hide.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. I believe you.” At least he almost did and that was the best he was going to get. “If you and Jack are going to keep doing this training or whatever in the future, make sure Jack rests, too. Like you said, he’s eager, but he’s not got all his grace keeping him going now. He’s not going to take care of himself.”

“I will take care of him,” Castiel said seriously. “You can rely on me.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said. “I’m going to find Sam. I want to talk to him.”

He checked his watch. It was also time for Sam to eat something. He wondered if there was a way he could remind him without Sam realizing what he was doing.

“He was with Nick the last time I saw him,” Castiel said.

Not the gym then. Dean frowned. He wasn’t sure if the updated location was good news or not. “Okay, Thanks.”

He opened the door and strode out, followed by Castiel who slipped away toward his own bedroom. Dean headed back through the halls and library to the dungeon in search of his brother.

He hesitated outside of the door, wondering if he should knock, and then he dismissed the idea. This was his home that Nick was lodging in the dungeon of. He pushed open the door and called, “Sammy?”

“In here.”

He walked around the shelves to the open gap that led into the dungeon. Nick was seated on his cot and Sam was leaning against the wall. On the table was an empty coffee cup and a pile of books with Sam’s iPod sitting on top. It looked pretty cozy for the dungeon where they were keeping Lucifer’s former vessel, and Dean guessed it was Sam’s influence on the place.

They both watched him expectantly as he entered, and he felt almost as if he was intruding, a thought that bothered him as this _was_ his home, not Nick’s.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said, “I need to talk to you about some stuff.” He gave Nick a pointed look. “Alone.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay. We’re just finishing up here anyway. Nick, I’ll talk to Ketch and get you some cash.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Cash?” Dean asked.

“Nick’s leaving,” Sam explained. “I said I’d fix something up with Ketch out of the Men of Letters funds so he can get a head start on… well, life.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. He figured it was a bad idea to keep Nick in the bunker, around Sam—though it didn’t seem to bother Sam to be around the man that wore the face of the monster that had tortured him—but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for Nick to be set loose on the world either.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, forcing himself to look into Nick’s familiar and hated face.

“Yes,” Nick stated.

“It’s time,” Sam added. “We kept him here in case he was a danger, but he’s not. Nick is a victim in this as much as anyone. You and me know what that’s like.”

“Yeah, but he was the one that gave Satan consent to end the world,” Dean said.

Sam scowled. “Seriously, Dean?”

Nick’s hands fisted on his lap. “I didn’t know what Lucifer was going to do, and I was not in the right headspace to think long-term.”

“Nick had just lost his wife and child,” Sam said, his face pinched and annoyed. “Lucifer said he would give him justice. _I_ know what that’s like. Don’t forget what Ruby had me doing.”

“Oh, believe me, I haven’t forgotten,” Dean said, feeling a little guilty when Sam’s eyes widened slightly.

Sam drew a calming breath. “Nick is not our prisoner. He’s been good about staying because we weren’t sure if there would be any holdover from Lucifer, but there isn’t. Keeping him here now is wrong. He deserves a chance to start over, to get his life back, to finally find justice.”

“Who are you seeking justice from, Nick?” Dean asked.

“The person that killed my family,” Nick said. “They were murdered and the person that did it was never found.”

“See?” Sam said pointedly. “You and I know how that feels, and it’s not like it can end the same for Nick as it did for us.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s going.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure. Fine. Do what you want. Get him the money, but first I need to talk to you.”

Sam looked him in the eyes for a moment, seeming to be searching for something, and then he nodded and said, “I’ll be back soon, Nick,” and slipped past Dean and out into the hall.

Dean followed him and said, “We need to talk about Jack and Cas.”

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Jack’s getting his powers back, more than they told us. I saw him blasting the wall with the light show. Castiel didn’t tell us because he thought we’d send him after Michael.”

Sam scowled. “What the… Didn’t he listen to what I said?”

“Not well enough,” Dean said, strangely pleased that Sam’s reaction was the same as his. “I think that’s what he was hiding from us, not that crap about Michael. But…” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Honestly, Sam, something is still niggling at me. He’s not acting quite right. He says he’ll be open and honest in the future, but… I’m not sure.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, seeming to be weighing something in his mind, and then he said. “Okay, he might be hiding something else, or preparing to, but don’t you think he’s got the right?”

“No!” Dean said incredulously.

“Really? Aren’t you hiding stuff from us?”

Dean fought to keep his face neutral as he said, “What exactly am I hiding from you?”

“Michael,” Sam said. “There’s more than you say about what happened when he had you. You don’t want to talk about it, I get it, I’ve hidden stuff before, too, but we can’t judge Cas for not being open when we’re not open with him all the time.”

It was on the tip of Dean’s tongue to argue, to tell him he remembered nothing, but he stopped himself. Why add another lie to his account when Sam wasn’t believing them anyway?

Sam nodded as if his silence was agreement. “We’ve all got the right to secrets. Cas isn’t going to do anything to hurt anyone—he’s learned from his mistakes like we have—so we’ve got to let him keep his.”

Dean glowered at the floor, irritated by Sam’s logic and the fact he was making sense. Dean didn’t want to talk about what Michael did to him, not even if it meant Castiel would be open with them in the future.

“Fine,” he snapped. “He can hide what he likes. Whatever.” He started to walk away and then, annoyed, he called back over his shoulder, not caring about smothering Sam, “And you need to eat.”

There was a soft laugh behind him, as if Sam knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling and was amused by it. “Sure, Dean. I’ll do that.”

Dean stomped away towards his bedroom. He was going to get the earphones on and blast something loud until he was able to calm down and deal with the crap that was going on again. His home full of strangers, Sam’s new BFF Satan’s vessel, Castiel and his _rights_ that didn’t always end that well, and Michael. What Michael had done. What Michal was doing now. What he was planning.

Always. Michael.


	22. Chapter 22

**_Chapter Twenty-Two_ **

 

Dean pulled the Impala to a stop outside Jody Mill’s house and cut the engine with a sigh. “She’s not home.”

“Jody?”

“Yeah, the cruiser’s gone. I was hoping we could see her, too, and that maybe we’d…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Get a homecooked meal out of the trip?”

Dean shrugged. “She’s a damn good cook is all.”

“I’m sure if we hang around long enough, she’ll cook for you.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Dean said with a grimace.

“Like what?”

“Like she’s the little woman that’s going to be fixing dinner for the men.”

Sam laughed. “That’s not what I meant, but I see your point. She’ll shoot our kneecaps out if she thinks that’s what we’re saying.” 

“Exactly.” Dean opened the door and climbed out then peered back in. “Move it.”

He wandered towards the door, hearing Sam’s door open and close behind him before he fell into step at his side. Dean was hoping that they could get dinner with Jody and the girls, but he was also eager to spend some time with them. And, he wouldn’t say it to Sam, but he wouldn’t mind a few days here to give him a break from the bunker and the people that were always filling it. The drive to Sioux Falls, just him and Sam, had felt good, and he wasn’t ready to end that feeling yet.

He knocked on the door and it was opened by Alex who beamed at them. “Hey, guys! Come in!” She stepped back and held the door open wide.  

Dean entered, looking around Jody’s hall. He liked her house; it was a proper home, especially now it was filled with a family again. When Jody had taken in Alex, Claire and Patience, she had created something special for herself and them, too.

“Come on through,” Alex said, leading them into the living room and gesturing them into seats.

They sat side by side on the couch and Alex took a chair opposite.

“So, how are you doing?” she asked. “Jody told me what happened with Michael, Dean. That must have been pretty rough.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, it wasn’t fun for any of us.”

She nodded seriously. “I bet. And you, Sam? Mary said you were pretty badly hurt. How are you now?”

Dean thought that was a good question, and he listened attentively for Sam’s answer. He didn’t ask himself as he was aware of smothering him and making him feel weak, but he always wanted to know.

“I’m good,” Sam said, patting his stomach over the spot Dean knew was scarred. “All healed. How’s everyone here?”

Alex smiled, clearly pleased to talk about her family. “We’re mostly good. Patience is settled in the new school and Jody is busy at work. Donna was here last weekend, and that was fun.”

“And Claire?” Dean asked.

Alex’s smile faded. “She’s not doing so good now. This Kaia thing has done a real number on her. It was bad before, when she was grieving, but now Kaia’s killer is out there, a killer that is the doppelganger of the woman she loved, she’s all kinds of twisted up. She doesn’t know I called.”

Dean had guessed Claire would be struggling and he felt bad for her. He felt protective of the young hunter. She’d been through too much and lost too much for someone so young, and Dean and Sam could both relate to that. They’d at least had each other. Claire had spent years alone, and from what Jody told them, it was only recently that she’d really opened up to the others and let them help. Dean could have told her to let them in, that it would help her the way Sam had helped him and vice-versa, but she wouldn’t have listened. It was the kind of thing you had to learn for yourself.  Sam had probably tried to tell her though. That was the kind of thing he’d do.

“How about you?” Sam asked.

Alex brightened and the mood of the room shifted to positivity again. “I’m good. I’m loving my work.”

“Dating?” Dean asked with a grin.

“Since Henry, I decided to vet guys better for humanity. No one has passed yet.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “They’re vampires?”

Alex grinned. “No, just jerks. I’m happy alone right now.”

Sam and Dean laughed. Dean liked Alex, and seeing her life as it was now compared to the one she’d had when they’d met her was satisfying. She’d done well.

“So, I guess you want to know why I called,” she said, and the atmosphere changed again into expectant tension.

“We were wondering,” Sam said.

“I think there’s a case in town,” she said, “but I don’t want Claire in on it. She’s not picked up on it yet since she’d kinda distracted, but she might soon, and I figured if you were already here taking care of it, she wouldn’t have to step in when she’s not fully focused.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Sam said. “What’s going on?”

“Jody’s investigating missing bodies from the morgue right now, but I think it’s more than that.”

“More than a body snatcher?” Dean asked,

She nodded seriously. “I think there’s a murderer working the hospital. The people being taken are dropping dead without a clear cause, and their bodies being taken before the autopsy can be performed. They’re coming in for regular procedures, appendectomies and hernias, but they’re crashing out of nowhere and we can’t work out why.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully. He knew there were ways in which people could be killed without outward sign, he’d done it to himself with Doctor Robert’s help when he was trying to get Sam’s soul back, and if there was no autopsy, there would be no way to find out what was happening, what was being done to them.

“Is there any common denominator?” Sam asked.

“They’re all coming from my wing,” Alex said. “Critical care and high dependency are losing patients, but that’s usual, and their bodies aren’t being taken. It’s only the unexplained ones that are disappearing.”

Sam stared into the empty fireplace grate for a moment, his brow furrowed. “Could be a ghoul,” he said thoughtfully. “Wanting fresh meat. The ones that had me that time wanted to feed on the living, but maybe this one wants the newly dead.”

“It would probably taste better,” Dean said.

Alex grimaced. “Okay, that’s gross.”

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “What’s killing them though?” He looked at Alex. “These crashes, are they coming on fast or are they being found dead?”

“Found,” she said. “Not everyone on the ward is on constant monitoring. They get regular observation, but it’s not like the ICU or critical care when there are always people in and out. We come and go and the ward isn’t as highly staffed.” She shrugged. “It sucks, but it’s possible that people can get in and out unnoticed.” 

“Maybe they should be monitored,” Sam said.

“Tell me about it,” Alex said. “It’s been suggested, but there just isn’t the equipment for them all. Sioux Falls General isn’t exactly state of the art.”

“Sioux Falls General,” Dean groaned. “Awesome. Leviathan central.”

“What’s a Leviathan?” Alex asked.

“Shapeshifting monster from the dawn of time with big ass teeth and a liking for eating people.”

“I don’t think it’s them,” Alex said.

“No,” Dean agreed. “But last time we were there, me and Sammy almost got eaten.” He snorted. “And I was dosed with enough morphine to put me on my ass. They were more than generous, right, Sammy?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Sam said. “I was unconscious when you and Bobby busted me out.”

Dean nodded. He remembered that awful time, when Sam had Hell flooding his mind and Lucifer riding shotgun. He remembered the sound of the tire iron slamming into Sam’s skull and the way he’d seized in the ambulance, and just how scared he’d been when they’d been riding away from the hospital in the stolen ambulance with Sam unconscious in the back. Only the fact that he knew it was certain death behind that stopped him getting Sam back there where there were real doctors that could take care of his brother.

“The Leviathans are gone though,” Sam said. “Dean and Cas took down the big boss and the ones that remained were scooped up pretty easy.” He clapped his hands on his knees and said, “And there’s been no bodies showing up at all?”

“None. Jody doesn’t know if they’re being buried, hidden or burned. And now apparently being eaten by ghouls is an option, too.”

“Yeah, but ghouls only eat flesh,” Dean said. “There would be leftovers for them to deal with. They’ve got to be putting them somewhere.”

“Burning do you think?” Sam asked, looking at Dean.

“Maybe. That only leaves the barest scraps, and they’d be easy to dispose of or bury. How many times have we done it?” He shook his head sadly and answered his own question. “Too damn many.”

There was the sound of the front door opening and closing, and Alex called, “Jody?” hopefully.

“No, it’s me,” Claire said.

“Crap,” Alex muttered and then raised her voice. “Hey. Look who came by.”

Claire stomped into the living room and her eyes fell on Sam and Dean sitting on the couch. She eyed them for a moment and then said, “I saw the antique gas guzzler outside and figured it was trouble. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Sam said, his eyes wide and face innocent in the way he’d mastered as a child. “We were just in the area so we thought we’d come by and say hey.”

Claire threw herself into a chair and said, “Bullshit. You guys don’t visit. You come in a crisis and then blow out of town when it’s all over.” She eyed Alex speculatively. “Is this what you and Jody have been whispering about?”

“No,” Alex said. “That was something different. Jody was just worried about Sam and Dean after everything that happened, so I called them and asked them to come by to see us.”

Dean could tell Claire wasn’t buying a word of it, and he decided she had a right to know. This was her town and she was a hunter. He’d be pissed if she was in Lebanon hunting and hiding it from him. “Alex thinks there’s a hunt in town,” he said. 

Claire raised an eyebrow. “And you forgot you lived with a hunter, Alex?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably. “I just thought you’d had a lot going on and could do with a break. Sam and Dean can handle it and you can take care of yourself for a while.”

“Just because I’m upset, doesn’t mean I can’t do my job!” Claire snapped, eyes falling on Sam and Dean. “How would you feel if you were benched because of something that happened that you can’t control?”

“I’d hate it,” Sam said. “I _do_ hate it.”

Dean glanced at him, wondering if that was a subtle jibe. He had only benched Sam for one hunt, and that had been when he was still healing. He’d taken him for the vampire hunt, even though he’d been sure it was an epically bad idea. Sam had come through it fine, only a kick to the gut really slowing him down, but Dean had been worried. There was no shame in caring.

“So why did you think it was a good idea to do it to me?” Claire asked.

“To be fair, we haven’t done anything to you yet,” Dean said. “We’re only just hearing about the case ourselves now. We’ve got no kind of plan for it. You can be a part of it.”

“Damn right I can,” Claire said. “So what’s going on?”

“We think there’s a ghoul killing people at the hospital,” Sam said. “The bodies are being snatched out of the morgue before they can be autopsied, but they’re dying fast with no clear cause.”

Claire nodded thoughtfully. “They’re making their own meat. That makes sense. So, what are we going to do?”

“Claire…” Alex started, concern in her voice.

Claire held up a hand. “It’s my town and that makes it my hunt.” She looked between Sam and Dean. “I’ll let you guys help, but I’m running it.”

Dean thought she deserved to be a part of the hunt, but he wasn’t sure that letting her run it was the right idea. She was upset and she had nowhere near the experience he and Sam had.

“That’s fair,” Sam said. “You can run it.”

Claire nodded, obviously pleased, and Sam glanced at Dean with a pointed look, as if he was indicating that this was the right way to deal with the situation. If this was his way of showing Dean how to handle him next time, Dean was going to need to hear it said. He wasn’t dealing with Sam’s passive aggressive hints.

“I figure we should stake out the hospital,” Claire said.

“And look for someone carrying out a body?” Dean asked before he could stop himself.

“Got a better idea?” she asked.

“Actually, yeah,” Sam said, a glint in his eye. “If we’re waiting for someone to remove a body, it means that we’ve already lost one more life. If one of us is in the hospital as a target, it might mean we can do it without losing anyone else.”

“You mean as a patient?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. I can get myself admitted and set myself up as a target. Alex, did the victims have anything in common, apart from the sudden deaths?”

Alex considered. “They were all alone. I mean they had no visitors. They came in alone and had no next of kin registered when they died.”

“People no one will miss,” Dean said. “People that no one will kick up a fuss about when they disappear.”

“Jody’s kicking up a fuss,” Alex said defensively. “And I called you.”

Dean held up a hand. “I know that. I just meant they’re prime targets to disappear. Okay, I’ll go in.”

Sam shook his head. “No, I’ll do it.”

“You want to set yourself up as ghoul bait?” Dean asked. “Sammy, you can’t—”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It makes the most sense for it to be me. I’ve got the preexisting condition to back me up, and it’s not like I can die. You and Claire can stay close and I can call when I know something.”

“You can’t die?” Claire asked with a raised eyebrow.”

“It’s a long story, but basically, no,” Dean said.

Claire and Alex exchanged a confused look, but Dean didn’t acknowledge it. He was thinking hard. He didn’t like sending Sam in, but he had no good reason to argue apart from the fact he wanted Sam in a safe spot for the hunt, not acting as the target. But he was the obvious choice and would have no problem getting admitted if he played it right. They would want to follow-up if he went in with pain after what had happened to him before.

“I could do it,” Claire said.

Sam shook his head. “You and Dean aren’t going to be easy admissions. I really have the history to back it up.”

“What did happen to you?” Alex asked. “Mary just said you’d been hurt and it was bad.”

Sam grimaced. “Archangel blade to the gut. It left me with some issues.”

“Sounds nasty,” Alex said.

“You have no idea,” Dean muttered then shook off the dark thoughts. “Okay, Sam, you go in. You agree, Claire?”

“Yeah,” she said. “As long as you call as soon as you know something. This is my hunt still.”

“Of course,” Sam said, glancing at his watch.

“Maybe we should put a call in to Jody first,” Dean said. “See if there’s anything new. We might not need you to go in at all.” He couldn’t keep the hopeful note from his voice.

Sam considered and nodded. “We might as well. You want to do it?”

Dean pulled out his phone and selected and dialed Jody’s number. It was answered after a few rings and she sounded pleased, _“Dean, how’s it going?”_

“Not bad,” Dean said. “Me and Sam are in town to see if we can help Claire with these missing bodies you’ve got going on.”

 _“Claire’s in on it?”_ she asked, sounding disappointed.

“Afraid so,” Dean said. “Alex filled us all in, but we wanted to know if there was anything new before moving on.”

 _“Nothing,”_ she said regretfully. _“I’ve just been searching up security feeds, but they’re wiped and useless. Some virus or something. I’ve got no idea what’s going on in there.”_

“Convenient virus,” Dean said.

_“Exactly. I’m getting one of my guys in on it, see if he can remove it, but he said it might take a while. What are you planning?”_

“Sam’s getting himself admitted,” Dean said. “Stake it out from within and see if whatever it is takes the bait. We’re thinking ghoul looking for fresh meat.”

_“Makes sense. You sure it’s a good idea to send Sam in?”_

Dean averted his eyes from Sam’s eager scrutiny and said, “No, not really, but it’s what we’ve got to do.”

Jody sighed. _“I guess. Okay, I’ll keep on with what I’m doing here and let you know if I find something. You boys take care of yourself and, please, keep an eye on Claire.”_

“You know it,” Dean said. “Talk soon.”

They exchanged goodbyes and Dean said, “She’s got nothing, and the security feed is out. We’re going in blind.” And he hated it.

“We’ve done without before,” Sam said. “We can do it again.” He got to his feet. “I better get going. I’ll take a cab.”

“I’ll drop you off,” Dean offered.

“I’ve got to look like I’m alone,” Sam pointed out. “You and Claire get somewhere close and armed.”

“What kills a ghoul?” Alex asked.

“You’ve got to destroy the head,” Dean said. “Shotgun works, or something solid like a candlestick.” He remembered the ghoul that had worn Adam’s face that he had bludgeoned to death. That would be a better way to go instead of using a firearm in a hospital.

Sam patted Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll head into town and get a cab. I’ll call as soon as I know something.”

Dean nodded and watched as Sam raised a hand to Claire and Alex before going into the hall and slipping out of the door. Dean took a deep breath and reminded himself that Sam could handle this and that it was the right way to go in an attempt to calm himself.

“You’re not happy about this,” Claire stated.

“No, I’m not,” Dean agreed. “But Sam’s the second-best hunter in the world and he can handle a single ghoul no problem.”

“Second best?” Alex asked, amused.

“Yeah,” Claire said. “I’m the first. Dean comes in around fifth.”

Dean huffed a laugh. He thought the hunt was going to help Claire as much as the people they were saving. She had a lot going on with Kaia’s killer coming back, but now she was focused on something else, and Dean knew from experience that made a difference. They were going to save lives and help their friend.

If he could just dismiss his worries for Sam and truly believe in what he’d told them about Sam being able to handle it, it would all be good.


	23. Chapter 23

Sam had no problem getting checked into the ER when he arrived complaining of intense stomach pains and explained about his admission to St Luke’s in Duluth. He was quickly ushered into a cubicle in the busy unit and set up with an IV and painkillers while they contacted St Luke’s to have his records sent over.

He was worried the painkillers were a mistake as they usually clouded his mind, but they either gave him a weaker dose than he’d had in Duluth or he was able to handle them better, as his head remained clear and his body didn’t take on the marshmallow-like looseness he was expecting. In fact, he felt alert and poised for action. He made a point of toning down his pained expression and pained sounds though.

He had been waiting less than thirty minutes when a doctor swept over to him, the same one that he’d spoken to on arrival, and said, “Mr. Winchester, we’ve received your file from Duluth and we’re going to send you down for an MRI now.”

“Is that really necessary?” Sam asked cautiously. He wasn’t worried about the scan itself, as he’d had them in Duluth and knew that, other than being claustrophobic, they were basically simple, but he didn’t want his cover blown if they saw the complete absence of anything to explain his pain.

“It’s definitely indicated. We understand you checked out AMA from the hospital there, and we want to see if there were any complications in your healing. With pain like yours, it’s better to be proactive with diagnostics.”

Sam forced a smile. “Okay. Great.”

“Someone will be here to take you down to radiology in a moment,” he said, then swept away to the next bed and picked up the chart of the man lying there with a dressing over his temple.

Sam sent off a quick text to Dean to say he was going for a scan and hadn’t seen anything suspicious yet. He thought he would be on a ward before he had a chance of seeing anything helpful. That was if he was admitted. If he wasn’t, it was going to be more complicated to work the case. He supposed he could always intentionally injure himself, but Dean was not going to be on board with that plan, and it would look suspicious if he arrived with an injury after being discharged without a problem. And he certainly didn’t want to end up on a seventy-two-hour psych hold for his own protection.

Dean sent a one-word acknowledgment in return and Sam tucked his phone into his jacket pocket where it was resting across his legs.

A man in a grey orderly uniform came over pushing a wheelchair, followed by a nurse in blue scrubs who informed him that he was going to be taken down for his scan.

Sam got off the bed and sat down in the wheelchair, holding his jacket on his lap, and tried not to let how stupid he felt bother him. He reminded himself he was doing this for a reason, and at least this time it was all fake, and, most of all, Dean wasn’t there to see it. This wasn’t like Duluth when he saw his family’s genuine concern for him as he was treated. This was just a case.

They rode down in an elevator and along halls to a waiting room where Sam was deposited while the orderly hurried away and the nurse handed the file they’d started compiling for him to a woman behind a desk and then said her goodbyes and followed the same route away the orderly had taken.

Sam sat for a few minutes before a woman came out and said, “Mr. Winchester?”

Sam nodded. “Present.”

“Great,” she said cheerfully, taking the handles of the chair and wheeling Sam through sliding doors into a small room with a cot and locker. “You’re going to need to put on this gown and leave your valuables in here. Remove any metal you’re wearing. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Sam changed into the gown and put his watch in his jacket pocket and tucked it into the locker with his clothes then opened the door to the hall where the woman was waiting.

“You’re ready?” she asked, and when Sam nodded, she smiled and said, “Follow me.”

Sam followed her into a large room with the forbidding looking scanner in the center. She smiled reassuringly and said, “I see from your file that this isn’t your first MRI, so you know the drill. Lay down on the table and we’ll get started.”

Sam obeyed, making himself as comfortable as possible on the hard plastic, and rested his hands at his sides.

“I’ll be in the observation booth, but I can hear you through the microphone and you’ll be able to hear me. If you need to stop at any time, just say, but try not to if you can. The longer it takes, the longer you will be uncomfortable.”

“Got it,” Sam said.

“Here we go then.”

Sam felt the table he was on sliding back, taking him into the depths of the machine, and he forced himself to relax. He heard footsteps drawing away and then the open and close of a door. It was silent for a few minutes, and then the speaker crackled to life and the woman said, “We’re going to begin now. Stay as still as you can.”

Sam closed his eyes as the strange hum and thud of the machine started and focused on his breathing to pass the time. It seemed to take forever, and he was pleased when he heard the voice speaking again, “We’re just going to move you down a little,” she said. “We’re nearly done.”

Confused, Sam asked, “What are you looking at now?”

“We just want to get some clear images,” she replied evasively, and Sam felt the table moving him along the machine until his head was directly under the machine.

He stayed still as the machine started up again, but this time he was thinking hard. What would they have seen in his stomach that warranted them to change to a head MRI? What were they expecting to see in his brain, and why would they even be looking?

When the machine stopped and he was slid out and stilled, he swung his legs around and sat up as the woman came out of her small booth.

“Okay, Mr. Winchester…”

“Sam.”

She smiled, “Sam. I’ve spoken to a colleague and we’re going to run one more scan before we can settle you more comfortably.

“What did you see?” Sam asked.

“A doctor will go through the results with you,” she said. “I just need to inject you with something that will make the scan easier to read.”

She reached for his hand where the ER nurse had set him up with an IV port, but he pulled it back.  

“What are you looking for?” Sam asked.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Honestly, I’m not sure, my colleague made the decision, but if we can do this scan, we’ll be able to tell you more.”

Sam sighed and held out his hand. She withdrew a thin syringe from her pocket and uncapped it. He felt uncomfortable and worried as she injected it, and for the first time since bringing himself to the hospital under his ruse, he felt really nervous. He’d come in for a hunt, but now he thought there might actually be something wrong with him.

xXx

Sam blinked awake in the room he’d been brought to after the second scan and wiped a hand over his head. He didn’t remember being particularly tired, especially not tired enough to actually fall asleep when he was here with a job in mind. He supposed they’d dosed him again.

The door opened and Alex came in wearing plum scrubs and followed by an older woman in the same uniform. It was on Sam’s lips to greet her, but he remembered just in time that he was supposed to be here alone and vulnerable, so he merely smiled politely when she introduced herself and the nurse with her as Sadie Thompson.

“We’re just going to take your vitals,” Alex said. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Sam lied. In truth, he was confused, concerned, and annoyed with himself for falling asleep when he was supposed to be working.

Alex wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm and pressed a button to inflate it as Sadie took his temperature.

“I noticed on your admission chart that you came in alone,” Sadie said. “Is there anyone we can call for you?”

“No,” Sam said. “I don’t really have anyone. My closest family is a cousin in Kansas, and we don’t really keep in touch.”

Alex shot him a look and Sam realized he might have been hamming it up a little. He wanted the word out there that he was alone though, and if that made him look a little pathetic, it didn’t matter to him.

“That’s a shame,” Sadie said sympathetically. “You must be lonely.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Alex noted his blood pressure on his chart and removed the cuff. “That’s a little high,” she said. “Are you feeling stressed?”

“No,” Sam lied, not wanting news to get back to Dean that he might be struggling. If Dean decided Sam couldn’t handle it and came in, they would be back to square one. 

“I’m just going to take some blood,” Sadie said. “The doctor has ordered some tests.”

Sam nodded and watched as she inserted the syringe into the port in the back of his hand and it filled with blood. He wondered what exactly they were testing for and if he’d have a chance to find out before the ghoul was found and he checked himself out. He couldn’t exactly tell Dean he wanted to stay in after it was over as that would tip him off that something was wrong. 

Sadie covered the port and put the vial of blood in a plastic caddy before removing her gloves. “I’ll send this down,” she said, then walked to the door.

When the door closed behind her, Alex said, “What’s going on?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know. They must have dosed me again. I didn’t even feel tired.”

“I’m not talking about your nap. I mean what’s going on with you. You are definitely stressing, and the doctor is coming down to speak to you soon.”

Sam frowned. “That’s normal, right? No one has told me anything helpful yet.”

“No,” Alex said. “It’s our neuro god, Sam.”

Sam felt his face drain of color. What the hell did they see on his scans?

“Sam!” Alex snapped, making him think it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said.

“Do you need me to call Dean?” she asked. “You look like you’re freaking and I was talking to you but it was like you weren’t even here. You were just staring around like you didn’t know where you were. And our neuro guy doesn’t often come down here. Is something going on?”

“I really don’t know,” Sam said honestly. “There was brain stuff going on when I was in the hospital before, but that was fine. I was fine.” He considered, some of his panic fading as he thought of the conversations he’s had there. “They saw stuff that confused them though. Maybe it’s just that again.”

Alex eyed him. “I think I should…”

“Do not call Dean!” Sam said firmly. “We’ve got a hunt to take care of.”

She nodded and then turned as the door opened and a man with greying hair and an impressive mustache came in.

“Doctor Briers,” Alex said respectfully. “Would you like me to stay?”

The doctor plucked Sam’s chart from her hands and said, “No. I’ll call if I need someone.”

Alex shot Sam a quick look and hurried out of the room.

The doctor set down the chart on the bed and looked at Sam. “Mr. Winchester, I am Doctor Briers and I am the head of neurology for the hospital.”

Sam nodded. “What’s going on with my scans? Why did I need two? Why did you even do one when I only came in with stomach pain?”

The doctor frowned, as if he was used to receiving more respect for his position. Sam would usually have given it but the dismissive way he’d spoken to Alex made Sam think he was a dick.

“The brain scan was indicated after the abdominal scan was viewed.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Because of your healing,” Doctor Briers said. “With the injuries we saw on the scans and records from St Luke’s, we were expecting to see substantial scar tissue that was causing your pain. We suspected an obstruction. There was no obstruction.”

Sam nodded. He knew that already as he’d not actually been sick when he came in. “Okay. That’s good.”

“It is, but it’s also strange. There is no scar tissue. There should be obvious signs of where the bowel was resected, but there isn’t. We couldn’t place the area at all. You have an external scar from the surgery, I understand, but internally the only sign of the surgery is the absent length of bowel.”

“That’s weird,” Sam said in a neutral voice. “But what does that have to do with my brain?”

He knew why there was no scar tissue as the grace had healed it. What he cared about was why they moved the scan up.

“Initially, it was a follow-up to gauge comparable healing,” he said. “But it was what we saw there that made us do the second scan. You know from your time in St Luke’s that there was brain tissue death. And it says you were informed that your damage was extensive but you weren’t suffering the expected side effects of that.”

“Yeah. Is that what you saw?”

“In part. There is tissue death that makes your condition now almost miraculous, but it’s what we saw on the second scan that was truly unexplainable. We ran a PET-CT which gives us a clear idea of brain function and blood flow, it essentially shows us the brain as it works, and what we saw in your brain is unprecedented. It is working.”

“Yeah…” Sam said slowly. “And?”

“And the dead tissue is reacting. That’s impossible, Mr. Winchester. Dead tissue doesn’t heal and it doesn’t work. The brain rewires itself, but the tissue stays dead. There is no explaining what’s happening in your head. Even a healthy brain would not be as active as yours. It is just not possible. Something inside you is alive in an incredible way.”

Sam’s stomach lurched and he thought he would be sick. He turned away and leaned over the side of the bed, not wanting to soil his clothes and the sheet if he was. A blue emesis basin was thrust into his hand, and he held it under his mouth as he drew deep breaths.

There was something alive in him…

There was only one explanation he could think of, and he didn’t even want to consider it. It was impossible; Castiel would have seen it. But what else could it be? What could be firing in the dead tissue? The doctor said himself it was impossible. The grace hadn’t healed it, there were parts of him that were dead, so what was bringing them to life for the scans?

His stomach calmed and he rolled back against the pillow, breathing heavily.

“I would like to run further tests,” the doctor said. “And I would like to consult other specialists in the field.”

“No,” Sam said dully. “I don’t want that.” He knew there was no medical explanation for what was happening to him. It wasn’t natural.

“But, Mr. Winchester—”

“No!” Sam said harshly. “I don’t want it. I don’t care why it’s happening. I’m just glad that it is.”

The doctor pressed his lips into a thin line nodded. “It is your decision, but I would want to know if it was me.”

“But it’s not,” Sam said. “I am happy not knowing why I am healthy as long as I am.”

The doctor nodded. “In that case, I will leave you. There will be someone from general medicine to discuss your abdominal symptoms soon. I suggest you rest.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam said vaguely as the disgruntled doctor strode from the room.

He waited until the door had shut behind him and then closed his eyes. He hated that he was even thinking this, doubting Castiel, but he had to know.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “If you’re in there…”

He focused his mind and searched for the feeling he remembered from when Lucifer had possessed him, the weight in his mind that had pressed against him, locking him inside. If there was an angel in there, he was going to find it. He felt nothing, but that didn’t stop him. He delved deeper, searching for anything hidden. He knew he would feel it if it was there, as this wasn’t the first time he’d been in this position and he recognized the feeling.

But he didn’t find it. Nothing he could sense told him he was anything but alone in his own body. Although… He delved deeper, searching for the touch of something he’d brushed against. His heart was racing and his breaths coming quick, and then, suddenly, he felt himself sagging against the pillows and a voice whispered, _“I’m sorry, Sam,”_ and his thoughts wiped clear.

His breaths returned to normal and his heart slowed. He blinked and looked around the room. He expected to see the doctor standing beside the bed, but he was alone. He ran a heavy hand over his face and sighed. He’d lost time again. He remembered the doctor coming into the room and starting to explain the scans, but then there was nothing. No, there was something, there was relief. Whatever the doctor had said, it had been a relief that he’d taken in despite his absence. He felt calm now as he knew there was nothing to worry about. The scans were fine. He was fine.

He leaned over to the nightstand and took out his phone to send a text to Dean. As the message delivered, informing Dean that he’d seen nothing suspicious but was still looking, he tucked it away and swung his legs around on the bed. He was going to go for a walk, look around the ward and see if he could see anything suspicious.

With his worries dissolved, he could focus on the hunt again. That was why he was here, after all, not to get tangled up in tests and results that were meaningless. He was here to save lives.


	24. Chapter 24

Dean’s phone beeped and he snatched it up to read the message. “He’s back in his room,” he said. “They were starting to get suspicious about him roaming the halls when he was admitted in serious pain.”

“Figures,” Claire said. “Maybe we should go in ourselves and take a look around.”

“We can’t. Sam has to look like he’s alone.”

Claire sighed and shifted herself in her seat. “I hate this part. Don’t you hate this part? The sitting around and waiting for something to happen.”

“I’m used to it,” Dean said. “I’ve been hunting longer than you’ve been alive.”

“That’s nice, Grandpa.” She looked out of the window and clicked her tongue. “This sucks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Obviously not. I’m sitting in this hot rod and waiting for something to attack someone so we can go in and kill it. You and Sam snaked my hunt, and don’t even pretend I’m still running it because you might as well have put me on a booster seat and given me a sucker. This is yours. I’m just tagging along.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, sure, this is about the hunt, not about Kaia at all.”

“It isn’t about her,” Claire said curtly.

“You sure?”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “You actually want to talk about this? I never tagged you as a heart-to-heart kinda guy.”

“Do _you_ want to?” Dean countered.

Truthfully, he wasn’t comfortable with stuff like this, but he thought Claire needed it and she might open up to him more than Jody or Alex with whom she had a closer emotional connection. Though Dean had been there for some of the worst moments of her young life, the death of her mother, the loss of her father, and her possession by an angel, they’d not really bonded in that way. They had a battlefield connection. It was stronger in some respects, weaker in others.

“I might be able to help,” he added. “I’ve lost people before, too.”

“Yeah, but when you lose people, they come back,” Claire said, a line of annoyance between her brows. “How many times have Sam and Cas died now? And you even got your mother back.”

“Not everyone I love comes back.”

Though he never spoke about them, and Sam never even tried, Dean still thought of Lisa and Ben sometimes. They weren’t dead like Kaia—though they’d come close thanks to Crowley—but he’d lost them anyway. He could never see them again. It was right, they were living their lives free of the danger he brought with him, but that didn’t take away the loss.

Claire sighed. “I hardly knew her. We never had a chance. But then she died and…” She shook her head jerkily. “She died and there was nothing I could do for her. And now she’s out there again and I can’t see her!”

“No, she’s not out there,” Dean said firmly. “The woman that killed her is. She looks like Kaia, but that’s where it ends. She is not the woman you loved.”

Claire glowered down at her fisted hands. “Jody won’t even tell me where she is."

“Neither will I,” Dean said.

“Don’t you think I’ve got the right to know?”

“To know? Maybe. To get yourself killed? No. She will kill you—she already tried once. All you’re going to get seeing her is a world of hurt and an early grave.”

“I can handle myself,” Claire grumbled.

“Not against her, you can’t. You’re a hunter now, so you’ve got to be smart enough to know when to run as well as when to fight.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Like you and Sam do?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Whatever else you do, do not use me and Sam as role models.”

They were good, Dean knew, the best, but no one should think of them as someone to mimic.

“If you’re so dumb, why don’t you go and leave the hunt to me?”

“Because Sam’s already in there, and we’re not risking it all by bringing him out.”

He also wasn’t going to leave Claire to mop this up. He thought she could be good, amazing even, with enough time, but she was distracted by Kaia and that made her vulnerable.

“Aren’t you worried about him?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Of course he was worried about Sam. He worried about him every damn day; the same way Sam worried about him. They both knew how easily they could lose each other, and that made them fight harder for each other. Sam was in that hospital now, alone, with something that was killing people, but Dean had to trust that he could handle it because he had no other choice. Sam was the best option to be the patient, and Dean had to accept that and play backup.

“Then how can you just sit here waiting?” Claire asked.

Dean opened his mouth to snap a reply, to quell her questions, but then his phone rang and he snatched it up and checked the caller ID. “Jody,” he muttered and connected the call. “Hey.”

 _“We’ve got the bodies,”_ Jody said without preamble. _“They were dumped in the woods. There are no chew marks on them though. In fact, they’re mostly untouched apart from a big ass hole in their head behind the ear. It’s goes right through to the brain, Dean. It’s like someone stuck them with an icepick.”_

Dean groaned. “Then it’s a Kitsune. I’ve got to go. Sam’s in there and he has no idea what he’s facing. I’ll call you.”

_“Be careful. Make sure Claire is, too.”_

“I will.”

He ended the call and threw himself out of the car and rushed to the trunk. As he popped it open, Claire said, “Kitsune, they like brains, right?”

“Yeah, pituitary glands. Sam knew one that was taking from the dead, but she wasn’t killing for it. This one is creating its own meals.” He pulled out a knife from the tangle of weapons and said, “Get this in there to Sam. Give it to Alex. She’s got to tell Sam it’s a kitsune and I’m on my way. He’ll know what to do.”

“I thought we couldn’t bust his cover,” Claire said.

“We can’t, which is why you’re giving it to Alex. Sam’s got to be the one this thing comes for. He can handle himself. Anyone else is going to be killed.  When you’ve handed it over, meet me by the morgue. We’re going in undercover. Go!”

Claire tucked the knife up her sleeve and ran towards the hospital

Dean took a breath and snapped the trunk closed. Sam couldn’t be killed as long as Dean was alive, but he could be hurt. He had a vision of Sam being gored while trying to bludgeon a kitsune with an IV pole. It made him want to run in there now, but he couldn’t. He had to let Sam handle his part of this until he could get a cover to get in there, too.

Sam could handle it. He’d handled a lot worse. But that didn’t take away the sickness in Dean’s gut as he thought of what could be happening to his brother even now. 

xXx

Sam was back in bed, feeling strangely tired. Time was skipping again, and each time he came back to himself, he felt as though he’d been running and come to a skidding stop. His head hurt as if he’d been straining himself. He had to keep banishing the confused thoughts and returning them to the reason he was there.

He picked up his phone from the end of the bed and started to write a text when the nurse that had been in with Alex before, Sadie, came in carrying a small plastic tray.

Sam quickly set his phone down and smiled at her.

“How are you feeling, Sam?” she asked.

“Okay,” Sam said, and then corrected as he realized he should still be playing up the pain angle if he didn’t want to be discharged. “A little sore.”

“I’ve got some painkillers,” she said.

“No!” Sam said quickly and then softened his tone. “I don’t think I need them. I don’t want my head to be clouded.”

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly, setting the tray down on the table and taking out a syringe that she carried to him and plugged into the IV port on the back of his hand. He could have stopped her, but he had to keep the pretense of being sick, so he just watched as she pressed down on the plunger.

“Are you sure there’s no one we can call for you?” she asked.

“No, I’m alone.”

“Perfect,” she said quietly.

His arm started to burn as something spread upwards from the back of his hand. He yanked his arm away from her and reached for his phone. “You!” He spat.

“What about me?” she asked.

“You’re the ghoul.”

She laughed. “Ghoul? I’m not a disgusting monster that feeds off the dead. I’m pure.” She smoothed her scrub top as Sam pressed his hand to his suddenly racing heart. “I should have tagged you as a hunter. You were good enough to fool me. Not good enough to live though. What you’re feeling now, your heart racing, is what’s going to kill you.”

Sam knew that wasn’t true, he wouldn’t die from whatever she had done, but he was still aware he was in trouble. He reached for the IV pole, planning to slam it into her skull, as the door flew open and Alex rushed in, pulling a long knife from under her top. She stopped dead as she saw her friend beside Sam and the way he was sagging onto the bed.

“Not a ghoul,” she panted. “It’s a kitsune.”

“Knife!” Sam snapped.

She threw it and Sam caught the handle then brought it up to the kitsune’s chest. She backed away but Sam grabbed her shoulder and dragged her towards him, surprised by how easy it was despite his racing heart and loose muscles; he guessed the adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream by whatever she had done had added strength above what he usually had.

He plunged the knife into her chest, over her heart, as her eyes became foxlike and wide.

“Sam!” Alex gasped.

“Get outside,” Sam said. “Make sure no one comes in.”

Instead of obeying, Alex grabbed a chair and jammed it under the door handle to block it and came to Sam. “Are you okay? What did she do?”

Sam pushed the body of the Kitsune away from him and sank back onto the bed. He could still feel his heart racing, agitating him, and his hand shook as he reached for his phone.

Alex picked up the syringe from the floor where the kitsune had dropped it and said, “Did she inject you with this, Sam?” in a weak voice.

Sam nodded as he hit speed dial for Dean and waited for it to be connected.

“You need to lie down,” Alex said, reaching for the red button beside the bed

Sam caught her hand and shook his head as Dean answered. _“You okay, Sammy?”_

“Yeah, it’s dead,” Sam said. “Room one-thirty-seven. Come quick. We need to get this thing out of here.”

_“I’m on my way.”_

Sam dropped the phone down onto the bed and rubbed a hand over his chest again. His heart was calming now, slowing, and his head was clearing.

“Sam, this is a massive dose of potassium,” Alex said. “It will stop your heart.”

“It won’t,” Sam said. “It’s passing already. We told you, I can’t die while Dean is alive.”

“Medicine doesn’t work that way,” she said, taking his pulse.

“Magic does,” Sam said. “I cannot die while Dean is alive.”

He pulled free and crossed the room to get his bag of clothes from his locker. Someone tried the lock and Sam and Alex both froze until the second knock came in the pattern he and Dean had once come up with to alert each other to their presence when there was trouble.

“Let him in and get out of here,” Sam said.

Alex opened the door and Dean wheeled in a sheet covered gurney, he was wearing the grey uniform of an orderly and Sam breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

“Clean up on aisle four,” Dean said.

“Quick!” Sam said urgently.

“Dean, Sam got injected with—” Alex started.

“Sam is fine,” Sam cut in. “Seriously, Alex. Now you need to get out of here.”

Alex cast Sam a concerned look and then slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her as Dean and Sam hefted the body of the kitsune onto the gurney and covered it and the knife with a blanket from the bed to absorb the blood and then a sheet. 

“What did you get injected with?” Dean asked. “Because I’m damn exhausted.”

“Potassium,” Sam said. “Would have stopped my heart without you. So thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome I guess.” Dean looked around the room and said, “What are we going to do about the blood on the floor? You busting out with me?”

“It will look too suspicious,” Sam said. “Get the body out of here and burned. Jody can fluff the investigation.”

“She’s not going to thank us for that,” Dean pointed out.

“No, but I can’t just disappear at the same time as a nurse and leave a pool of blood behind,” Sam said. “I’ll clean up.”

Dean shot him a worried look and then propped open the door and pushed out the gurney. Sam went to the bathroom and pulled off a stream of toilet paper to mop up the blood on the floor. He went back and forth, flushing each wad of bloody paper down as he went, until the floor was clean then he sank down onto the bed and sighed. His heart had returned to normal now, but he was a little shaky after what had happened. If he hadn’t had the connection to Dean, he would have been killed. It had been too damn close, but at least he knew for sure now that the connection worked one way. He wouldn’t be the one that killed Dean.

The door opened and Alex came in. She looked at the floor where the pool of blood had been and said, “Damn, you work fast.”

“Did Dean get away okay?” Sam asked.

“I think so. He got off the ward anyway. Claire’s gone to help him with the body. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said. “I told you I would be. I can’t die.”

“Which is weird as all hell, but also not what I’m talking about. I meant the rest.”

Sam frowned. “What rest?”

“I heard Doctor Briers talking, Sam. He said something about scans so I…” She bit her lip. “I looked at your file. What the hell is going on in your head, Sam?”

“Uh… I don’t know.”

Alex sighed. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me, but you should tell Dean. It’s not normal.”

“What’s not normal?” Sam asked.

Alex frowned at him. “You really don’t know, do you? I thought Doctor Briers told you when he was in earlier.”

Sam felt a tingle of unease. He remembered the doctor coming in, but the rest was a blank. He’d lost time again, and apparently, he’d lost something important with it.

“What did it say, Alex?” he asked.

“I don’t know all of it, it didn’t really make sense to me, but it said something about activity in dead cells. What’s with the dead cells?”

Sam closed his eyes. Of all the times for his mind to disconnect, it had to be while the doctor was talking. What the hell kind of luck was that.

“Did it say I was sick?” he asked.

“No, it seemed to be the opposite. Parts of you were working that shouldn’t be. What’s going on, Sam?”

“I really don’t know,” Sam said quietly. “Is the doctor still around?”

She checked her watch. “He should be. He’s got late rounds on the unit for a couple neuro patients. I’ll ask him to come in.”

“Thanks,” he said. She started towards the door and he called after her. “Alex, don’t tell anyone else about this. Not Jody or Claire, especially not Dean.”

“You don’t think he should know?”

Sam sighed. “You wouldn’t understand, but me and Dean… sometimes there’s things we don’t need to know. If I have to, I’ll tell him, but not until I’m ready.”

She looked uncomfortable but nodded. “Okay. It’s your choice, I guess. I’ll go find the doctor.”

Sam swung his legs around on the bed again and relaxed against the pillows as he waited for the doctor to come. It seemed to take a long time before the door opened and the doctor came in, saying, “Mr. Winchester, I’m glad we have another chance to talk. Have you reconsidered the investigations?”

“Maybe,” Sam said, careful not to show just how lost he was. “I need you to go over it all again though.”

The doctor nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. “Well, as you know, we saw activity on your scan that couldn’t be explained, and…”

Sam listened attentively, wanting to hear it all, but the doctor had barely finished his sentence before Sam heard a voice speak in his mind, sounding resigned, and he stiffened.

_“Here we go again…”_


	25. Chapter 25

**_Chapter Twenty-Five_ **

 

Castiel was waiting for Sam and Dean to get back from Sioux Falls, sitting alone in the library, searching desperately for something to help Sam, as everyone else had gone to bed. He was curious about why they’d been gone so long, as Dean had called Mary and said the hunt was taken care of the morning after they’d left.

Mary had been unconcerned, saying it would probably do them good to have some time with Jody and the girls. Castiel had been happy as it would mean they would have news of Claire when they got back, but with the way Sam had been committed to helping Bobby’s people train and Dean had been around the rest of the family, it seemed strange that they had stayed away longer than necessary.

He set his book back on the shelf and picked up another then put it down as he heard the grind of the door opening and Dean’s voice calling, “Anyone around?”

Castiel went to the stairs that led into the war room and said, “Just me,” as Dean and Sam came down the stairs.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said cheerfully. “Everyone else crashed already?”

“Yes, it’s late,” Castiel said. “We expected you sooner.”

Dean grinned. “Jody and Patience were cooking, and it would have been rude to leave before we ate. Sammy insisted.”

Sam smiled, though it looked a little forced. “You were the one that wanted the dinner like you were the one that wanted the breakfast and lunch at the All-American Diner.”

“Hey! That was nostalgia,” Dean said. “The All-American was Bobby’s favorite place. I was honoring him going there.”

“Waffles _and_ pancakes are honoring no one but your own gut, Dean.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. Was damn good though.”

“Yeah,” Sam said tiredly. “Best yogurt in the state.” 

Castiel gave him a sympathetic smile. He remembered some things from his human life fondly and, despite the annoying regularity of his need for it, eating was one of those things. Sam’s diet was so limited now it wasn’t surprising that seeing his brother demolish a diner breakfast was hard on him. Castiel was surprised that Dean had done it. He was usually more careful about making it easy for Sam. Perhaps he thought it was better to go back to normal now that Sam was more settled in his situation.

Dean cast him a sideways look and his lips pressed into a thin line. “What did everyone eat here?”

“Mary made something called a Winchester Surprise,” Castiel said, the memory of the greasy food being devoured by Jack with glee making him grimace. He thought molecules would have been more appetizing than what Mary had served.

Dean’s mouth dropped open. “Mom made Winchester Surprise! Without me! Man, I’m never leaving again.”

Sam chuckled. “Maybe you’ll think twice before going back for seconds next time.”

Dean patted his stomach and said, “I’ve still got room. Cas, tell me there’s leftovers.”

“There are leftovers,” Castiel said. “They’re packaged in the fridge for you.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, dropping his bag down onto the map table and striding away.

Sam watched him go and then said, “Everything okay here, Cas?”

“Yes. Are you okay?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I just…” His eyes became faraway and then flashed with grace as Jo came to the forefront and said, “He is _not_ okay.”

“Jo!” Castiel snarled, his hands fisting. “Go, now!”

“I can’t,” she growled.

“Sam isn’t stupid and you’re worrying him. I told you already.”

Jo snorted. “He’s worried! Do you think I don’t already know that? I am the one actually seeing and feeling it with him.”

“Then why won’t you stay where you’re supposed to be?”

Jo dropped Sam’s bag onto the floor and strode towards Castiel. “Do you really think I’d be doing this if I had a choice? I needed to talk to you. Something is happening.”

The stress in her tone sounded genuine, and Castiel quickly narrowed his eyes and searched Sam’s body for further sign of harm. There was nothing new, just the same wasted parts of him, and he focused on her again, “What’s wrong with him?”

“When he was in the hospital for that case, they did a couple tests on him. One was an MRI which is a kind of scan that—”

“I know what an MRI is,” Castiel interrupted. He had spent those days in the hospital with Dean and Mary while Sam struggled for life, and he’d heard and learned more medical terms than he’d ever thought he would need. “What did they see?”

“Me,” Jo said. “I was distracted, trying to help him, and they scanned him while I was working on him. They saw the activity in parts of the brain that died. That’s impossible for a human.”

Castiel felt a chill of fear. “Does he know?”

“He does now. The first time the doctor told him about it, he guessed I was there, or that someone was there. He searched for me. I had to bury myself deep to hide. When he was done, I wiped it from his mind.”

“You messed with his memories! Do you have any idea just how deeply you’re violating him?”

Jo glowered. “It was that or let him expel me. Which would you prefer, Castiel? I thought you actually cared about him. If you think he’d be better off a vegetable, I’ll go now.”

“No!” Castiel held up his hands. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that… This is so wrong, Jo, don’t you see?”

“I do, but I’m trying to save him. I wiped him once, but that nurse friend of his, Alex, saw the file and she asked him about it. He believes he lost time again and that’s why he didn’t remember, but he saw the doctor again after that and now he knows.”

Castiel closed his eyes then fixed them on her as he asked, his voice desolate, “He knows you’re in there?”

“He doesn’t know about me, but he heard me and knows something is going on. I don’t dare wipe him fully again as that Alex knows and she might tip him off, but I took away my slip. He doesn’t remember me talking to him.”

Castiel looked away. The nightmare of Jo’s presence and Sam’s situation had been bad from the beginning, but it was getting worse by the day. Sam was going to find out sooner or later, and he would either expel her, destroying himself, or he would let her stay, hating every moment of it, and hating Castiel for lying.

“He’s chosen not to search for me again,” Jo said. “He’s trying not to think of it at all, but he might have questions, and I thought you should be prepared for them. Come up with a cover story. I thought perhaps you could say it was the life connection he has with Dean. He might be convinced; I don’t know. What I do know is that I am doing my damnedest to help him but it’s like emptying a swimming pool with a teaspoon. I just don’t have enough power. He needs an archangel.”

Castiel sighed. There was one archangel left on earth, and he was never going to help. He would sooner destroy Sam himself. He might not be able to kill him, but he could blast him to atoms. Sam would be alive but untethered to a body. He’d be less substantial than a spirit. That would perhaps be a worse fate than what would happen if he expelled Jo.

“If he asks, I will tell him that,” Castiel said miserably. “But you’ve got to leave him alone. Stop coming out. Let Sam be himself. He needs peace.”

“I will,” Jo said. “Be careful with him. You’re a good liar, Castiel, but you’ve got to be better than good now. The Winchesters need you to be. He cannot be allowed to expel me. I will wipe him _and_ Alex if he starts looking for me, but I don’t want to keep messing with his memory. I might do more harm than good.”

“Okay,” Castiel said. “I will be better, but I don’t want to see you again. Let it be just Sam.”

“Just Sam?” Dean’s voice came from the doorway that led to the kitchen and it was low with carefully constrained fury. “What the _hell_ is going on?”

xXx

Dean was strolling along the hall, a plate of Winchester Surprise in one hand and two beers hanging from his fingers in the other. He thought he could persuade Sam to stay with him and Castiel to have a beer and maybe cheer the hell up. He’d been weird since getting out of the hospital, faking humor and happiness while Dean had been enjoying himself with Jody and the girls. Dean had asked what was wrong, but Sam just shrugged him off and said he was tired. Dean was tired, he _knew_ tired after the heart-stopping dose of potassium Sam had received in the hospital transferred back to him, but he wasn’t acting like Sam. Honestly, Dean was annoyed by it. They’d had a good hunt, they’d spent some time with friends, and now they were home. Why did something have to be wrong with that?

He turned a corner and heard Sam and Castiel’s voices rumbling. He slowed and just listened for a moment, wondering if Sam was opening up to Castiel about what was going on.

He quickly heard enough to tell him that Sam wasn’t opening up at all. It wasn’t even Sam talking.

“You’re a good liar, Castiel, but you’ve got to be better than good now. The Winchesters need you to be. He cannot be allowed to expel me. I will wipe him _and_ Alex if he starts looking for me, but I don’t want to keep messing with his memory. I might do more harm than good.”

Without instruction, Dean’s feet carried him along the hall to the library where he saw Sam and Castiel facing away from him, their attention locked on each other. Neither of them seemed to have realized he was there.

“Okay,” Castiel replied heavily. “I will be better, but I don’t want to see you again. Let it be just Sam.”

“Just Sam?” Dean said, fighting hard to keep the raw fury from his voice. “What the _hell_ is going on?”

They both turned, Castiel looking stricken and Sam wary, as Dean walked deeper into the room, his footsteps measured as he walked to the table and set down the bottles and his plate. He gripped the edge for a moment, head bowed and ears ringing, and then he straightened up and looked at Sam.

“You’re not Sammy.”

Sam—or whoever he was—shook his head. “No.”

Dean turned to Castiel. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Castiel said defensively, his hands coming up in front of him as if to ward off an attack. “It’s not what you think.”

Dean held up a finger to silence him, closed his eyes, and the took a breath before addressing Sam. “Who are you?” 

Sam’s face became strangely sad. “Don’t you know? You called me after all. You asked me for help.”

Dean felt a jolt of horror like an electric shock. This wasn’t a shapeshifter or even a stray leviathan as a foolish part of him had been hoping, despite what he heard. Sam was being used as a vessel again.

“Jo,” he growled.

She nodded. “Hello, Dean.”

“Sam doesn’t know,” Dean stated.

“No,” Castiel said. “He’s suspicious, but he doesn’t know anything for sure.”

“Then how the hell did you end up in there?” Dean asked, his voice rising to a shout. “What did you do to him?” He rounded on Castiel. “How could you do this?”

Words weren’t enough. Shouting wasn’t enough. Dean was enraged and he needed to act. He rushed forward and drew back a fist to slug Castiel. Jo caught his arm though and said, “You’re only going to hurt yourself and Sam.”

Dean yanked himself free of her grip and stepped back. “How could you do this?”

“He didn’t,” Jo said. “Castiel didn’t know until it was already done. All he is guilty of is caring too much to hurt either of you.”

“If he didn’t help, how did you get consent?” Dean asked.

“I put you to sleep and spoke to him,” she said. “I told him what his situation was and that I could help him if he let me in. He gave consent.”

Dean couldn’t wrap his mind around it. After what had happened with Lucifer and Gadreel, Dean knew Sam would rather die than give consent to an angel again. He would never have risked the lives of the people he loved the way Dean had Kevin’s when he’d helped Gadreel to trick Sam into saying yes.

What could have been bad enough for Sam to choose this over death?

“That makes no sense,” he said. “Sam would rather die.”

“He would rather die, yes, but he wouldn’t hurt you like that. I didn’t know about the life bond you shared when I spoke to him. I just saw that he was desperately ill and that medicine was failing. I saw you and what it was doing to you to see him like that, and I told Sam. He let me in, even though he hated it, to save you from pain.”

Dean swallowed down nausea. _He_ had been the reason Sam let this happen. Sam would have hated it, the idea alone would have been torture to him, but he had done it for him.

“Why doesn’t he know now?” he asked.

“Because he hated it so much,” Jo said. “When I saw the damage, realized what he would be without me, I realized I couldn’t let him expel me. I wiped myself from his memory. He would be ruined without me.”

Dean stared at her, seeing the truth of her in Sam’s face. She was imploring with him to understand, her expression open and honest, but it wasn’t Sam. It wasn’t true.

“You’re lying,” he said.

Castiel shook his head. “She’s not, Dean. I saw the damage, I still see it, without Jo, Sam would not function at all.”

Dean’s heart skipped. “Still?”

“Yes,” Castiel said sadly. “Without Jo, Sam would never be what he was before.”

Dean wiped a hand over his face, willing back the tears that wanted to fall. He drew a deep breath through his nose and said, “Okay. I get why you had to hide it from Sam, but why wouldn’t you tell me? Cas, after everything you said about being honest with me…” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you know then? Were you lying when you said all that stuff?

Castiel bowed his head. “Yes. I knew.”

Dean’s hands fisted. “Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Jo scoffed. “So you’d be tortured, too? This has been hell for Castiel.”

Castiel shot her a surprised look, as if he hadn’t expected her defense. Dean certainly hadn’t.

“Okay, I’m…” Dean stopped himself from apologizing, He understood why Castiel had hidden it from Sam _and_ him, but he wasn’t going to apologize for his anger about it. He fixed his eyes on Jo. “Why are you doing this?”

“I told you, without me, Sam would be—”

“A wreck,” Dean interrupted. “Yeah. I heard that part, thanks. I want to know what’s in it for you. You’re not exactly the giving type. You were charging those poor saps you were healing. What do you expect from us?”

“I wanted to help him,” Jo said.

“No. You wanted something else.” An idea occurred to Dean and he sneered at her. “You’re just like Gadreel—you’re hiding. What’s got you scared? Michael still? Yeah, it’s got to be. You’re using Sam as a hiding place.”

Jo nodded. “Yes, I am hiding, but I am also helping. And yes, I want something. I want you to stop Michael. You Winchesters have a history of coming through against the bad guy, and I want you to do it again.”

Castiel glared at her. “Why did you pretend—”

“I pretended nothing, Castiel. I was honest about what I was doing and what I was facing. You know as well as I do what will happen to Sam if I leave him. Just because I didn’t tell you _everything_ I wanted, it doesn’t make my presence any less necessary.”

“And when Michael is stopped?” Castiel asked. “Is this what you meant about staying until he was stopped? Are you waiting for your own life to be saved before leaving?”

“I wouldn’t need to stay if you had found something else to heal him already!” she snapped. “Have you even been looking?”

“Yes!”

“Enough,” Dean shouted, cutting Jo off before she could answer. “You’re staying, Jo. I don’t care how long it takes, you’re fixing Sam. And we’re telling him what’s going on. I will _not_ hide this from him again.”

“You can’t tell him, Dean,” Castiel said quietly as Jo threw up her arms and growled, “Are you kidding me?”

“I have to.”

“He _will_ expel me and he will be useless,” Jo said.

“Sammy will never be useless,” Dean snarled.

She raised an eyebrow. “No? So, when he can’t walk or talk, breath or communicate with the world at all, he’ll still be living? Would Sam think that?” She went on without waiting for an answer. “He wouldn’t even be able to die in peace because of the life bond. You would have to kill yourself to put him out of his misery. If you tell him, you’re doing worse than killing him.” 

Dean’s hands fisted so tightly his short nails cut into his palms. He felt a momentary sting that quickly passed and then confusion as Jo held up her hands and showed him small spots of blood on her palms.

“What the hell?” he asked.

“That’s something else you need to consider if you’re determined to ruin your brother. Every time you get hurt, Sam does, too. Thanks to that reaper’s spell, he takes your injuries and I have to heal them.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open as he realized what she was saying. He’d been hurt when facing the werewolves and vampires, but it hadn’t been as bad as it should have been. He’d barely bruised. He’d thought he was getting off lightly, but now it made sense. Sam _had_ been hurt. He’d said the vampire took a lucky swing, but that had been Dean’s pain in him.

Why the hell hadn’t he said something?

“You won’t just be trapping him inside himself, bound to your life, you’ll be hurting him physically, too. And I won’t be here to heal him. _This_ is what you’re threatening to do to your brother, Dean. Do you still think he needs to know?

Dean closed his eyes and this time he couldn’t keep the tears from falling. She was right. He couldn’t tell Sam. It would destroy him, and Dean couldn’t do that. If it was letting him go peacefully, the way he would have gone before when Death was with him in that cabin, he could maybe do it. But to trap him, to cause him pain… He couldn’t.

“Okay,” he said, wiping away his tears. “I won’t tell him. But you’ve got to stay down. I don’t want you out again unless it’s to protect him. And you will stay until we can find a way to fix him. Understand?”

Jo narrowed her eyes. “I cannot promise to give up my life for Sam.”

“You don’t have to,” Dean said. “You have to give it up till me and Cas find a way to save him ourselves. If you leave him before, if you do that to him, I will hunt you down and I will kill you. Don’t think for a minute I won’t find you. I’ve got a damn Nephilim on my side. Got it?”

Jo nodded slowly. “I understand. But work fast. I don’t want to be here forever.”

“Believe me, we don’t want that either,” Dean said.

She stared at him for a moment and then Dean saw her awareness recede and Sam’s return. His eyes fell on Dean and he blinked, obviously confused.

With intense effort, Dean formed his face into a smile and said, “Drift off, Sammy?”

Sam returned his smile. “Yeah. I guess.”

“I got you a beer,” Dean said, gesturing to the table.

“No, I think I’ll crash,” Sam said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He raised a hand in farewell and went up the steps and through the library towards the bedrooms. Dean stayed perfectly still until he heard Sam’s footsteps recede into silence and then he covered his face with his hands.

“Goddamnit, Cas.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “But you see why I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to spare you this pain.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I get it. You betrayed us for a reason, just like I’m doing now. And when Sam finds out…” He shook his head. “He’s not forgiving me this time.”

“He doesn’t have to find out,” Castiel said. “I’ve been searching for a way to heal what Jo can’t. There will be something and then Jo can go. I can wipe Sam’s memory. He never needs to know what’s happened to him.”

Dean stared into his eyes, seeing the earnestness, and shook his head. “That won’t work, Cas, and you know it. Things never work like that for us. No matter how long it takes and what happens, you and I are screwed. Sam will find out and he will never forgive us.” He turned away. “You and me, we’ve saved his life but not so we can have a part of it. Sooner or later, that’s all going to be over. And you know what?” He wiped at his face again. “I won’t even blame him.” 


	26. Chapter 26

Sam and Dean were alone in the kitchen for once. Sam was poking at his unappetizing oatmeal and Dean was busying himself making coffee at the counter. From the plates sitting by the sink, Sam guessed at least two of the other inhabitants of the bunker had already eaten.

Sam was happy to be alone with his brother, not least of all because Dean wasn’t quizzing him about what had happened the night before when he’d lost time and Dean had been there. He’d fled the scene before Dean could ask more, but he’d been expecting an interrogation when he saw his brother again. Instead, Dean had asked solicitously how he slept and offered to make Sam breakfast. Having experienced Dean’s attempts at oatmeal before—how could someone that was as good a cook as Dean manage to screw up something so simple—Sam had refused.

Dean was being a little weird though. He was looking at Sam strangely. It was familiar as it was how he’d looked at him in the hospital immediately after Sam had woken up, as if he couldn’t quite believe Sam was there. Sam didn’t push for an explanation as he was a little scared himself. He was worried Alex had said something to him about the scans they’d done and the strange results. He didn’t want to have that conversation with Dean, to admit he was hiding something so huge, so he just pretended everything was fine and hoped it would be. He was doing his best to ignore what had been found on the scans as that was easier than the alternative. He had Castiel’s reassurances, and he trusted him. He had to. The alternative was too much to face.

“Morning, boys,” Mary said, coming into the room and giving them both wide smiles.

“Hey, Mom,” Sam said, leaning into her touch as she laid a hand on his shoulder and then patted Dean’s arm as she passed him. “How was Sioux Falls?”

“It was good,” Dean said. “Jody says hey to everyone here.”

“And the hunt?”

Sam shrugged. “We killed a kitsune.”

Mary poured herself a coffee from the pot Dean had prepared and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. She came to sit beside Sam. “You stayed longer though. I thought maybe something happened.”

“Jody happened,” Dean said with relish. “She was cooking, and it would have been rude to leave.”

Mary gave him a quizzical look. “She was cooking for two days?”

“Sometimes,” Dean said. “We spent the rest of the time just hanging out.”

“And waiting for her to start cooking again,” Sam said.

Dean grinned, “Yeah, that too.”

Mary shook her head, an indulgent smile on her lips. “Well, you missed out on me cooking.”

“I know,” Dean said, scowling. “Winchester Surprise. Without me.”

“I saved you some.”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Sam said. “He found it last night.”

“And it was _good_ ,” Dean said, drawing out the word happily.

“I’m glad,” Mary said. “Did you try any Sam?”

“No, I didn’t think it would— Ouch!” His right palm suddenly burned as if it was pressed against a flame. He yanked it into his lap and clenched it into a fist.

“Sam?” Mary said, concerned lines on her forehead.

“I’m fine,” Sam said quickly. “Just a cramp. How were things here?”

He wanted to change the subject, and after scrutinizing him for a moment, Mary obliged. “Things were fine. Maggie has learned everything I can teach her now; she’ll start again when Charlie is here to teach her the rest. She and Rowena called and said they’d be here in a week.”

“Great,” Sam said. “If Charlie knows anything like our Charlie did, Maggie is going to be set up. She was a—”

He hissed between his teeth as the burning pain flared again. He tried to hide it, but they obviously noticed. He shook his head and was on the point of making another excuse, but then he saw what Dean was doing. He had his hand poised over the hotplate of the coffee maker and, his eyes fixed on Sam, he was slowly lowering it. 

“Don’t!” he said automatically.

Dean nodded and walked around the table, grabbing Sam’s wrist and pulling it from the under the tabletop. With an indefinable look on his face, he uncurled Sam’s fingers to expose the bright red skin with blisters forming.

“What is that?” Mary asked, her hand reaching for Sam and then pulling back as he flinched.

“It’s me,” Dean said darkly.

Sam ducked his head, unable to meet their eyes. “How long have you known?”

“Not long,” Dean said. “It’s healing.”

“It always does,” Sam said quietly.

“What’s going on?” Mary asked.

Sam forced himself to look up, to face Mary’s worry and Dean’s anger, but he didn’t look angry. He looked sad. Sam was caught off guard by the reaction. He’d been sure Dean would be mad that he’d not told him, but instead, he looked almost guilty.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “Really, Dean, it’s just that connection we have, and since it’s what kept me alive, I don’t think it’s something to complain about.”

“You’re getting hurt when Dean is?” Mary asked.

Sam nodded.

She frowned. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I figured you’d all been through too much already. It’s only really happened a few times, and it’s only for a moment. I heal almost straight away.” He held up his hand to show the clear skin. “See?”

“How often really?” Dean asked somberly.

“Not many,” Sam said, then forced a smile. “Though you should be more careful at night when you’re stumbling around on the way back from the bathroom. You keep catching your toes on the bed leg, and that hurts like hell.”

“That’s more than a few times,” Dean said.

“Yeah, okay, but it’s only been bad a few times. Otherwise, it’s just inconvenient.”  

“What else do you feel?” Dean asked.

Sam laughed. “Nothing weird. It’s just when you get hurt. It’s like when something happens to me and you get so tired. It’s just working in reverse. I take your hits. And it’s worth it.”

“But Dean has been training Bobby’s people,” Mary said. “And working on sparring with Jack. I’ve _seen_ him getting hurt. I thought it wasn’t that bad as he wasn’t bruising or anything, but if you’re the one feeling those hits…”

“It heals,” Sam assured her. “I barely notice it.” He looked into her eyes, imploring her to understand and drop it to save Dean from that look on his face, the guilt and pain of the extra weight he was now carrying.  “It’s fine.” When neither she nor Dean looked reassured, he said, “It can’t kill me. The only way I die is if Dean does, and then nothing else will matter anyway.”

If Dean was gone, Sam wouldn’t want the world, so knowing that it would end for them both together was actually a blessing. It was how it should be. They’d both earned the chance to go down together, fighting hopefully.

Mary looked away, her lips downturned.  

“It’s okay, Mom,” Dean said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I can be more careful, and he’ll be fine.” He looked at Sam with serious eyes, as if he was trying to communicate something more than his words alone. “I’m going to take care of him.”

“I know,” Mary said tiredly. “You’ll take care of each other. You always do. Yes.” She smiled sadly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It is,” Sam said, his tone remarkably confident despite his roiling emotions. “We’ll all be fine.”

xXx

Jack strode into the kitchen where Sam and Dean were doing the lunch dishes and said, “I’m going to the store with Maggie. Do you want anything?”

Sam shook his head. “No, we’re stocked with everything I can eat.”

Dean thought he sounded a little disconsolate as he said it, but when he looked at him, he saw that Sam’s smile met his eyes. He thought perhaps he was just looking for what he expected to see in his brother. Sam wasn’t the one with this huge secret he was keeping; he wasn’t betraying Dean.

“Yeah, I’ve got a few things I want,” Dean said. “I can give you a ride.”

“I can drive if you lend me the Impala,” Jack said.

Dean shook his head quickly. “A whole world of no, Jack. Sorry, kid, but you’ve only been learning a while, and my baby needs careful handling.”

Jack sighed. “Okay. Yeah.”

“You’re getting there, Jack,” Sam said. “And it was years before Dean would let me drive. He’s just overprotective.”

Jack brightened slightly. “You come with us then. I’ve got a list of what Mary and Bobby want. And I know what we need.”

“And that’s not a case of candy,” Dean said.

“I know,” Jack said, his eyes wide and innocent.

“Because Mary already told you,” Maggie said in a low voice.

Jack grinned, unabashed. “I can get a few though.”

Dean shrugged. “I guess.”

Sam shoved Dean’s shoulder. “You guess? How many pies are you planning on buying Dean?”

Dean forced a smile. “As many as I can. The place is busier now. I want to make sure everyone gets some. Really, I’m just sharing the joy.”

Sam laughed. “If that’s what you think, sure.”

Dean was pleased to see Sam laughing. He seemed like himself, as if he wasn’t aware of Dean’s struggle. He never really wanted to get into the deep stuff with Sam, but he was more glad than ever that Sam was happy and distracted now. He had to keep up the pretense of normality at all times, and it was hard work.

Dean threw Sam the dishcloth and said, “Keep going, man, you’re doing a good job.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “And this isn’t about you ditching me to do all the work.”

“Nope. It’s about me protecting my baby from rookie drivers.”

With Sam’s laughter following him, Dean left the room and walked through to the library to get his coat and wallet. He told Castiel, sitting at the table with a book open in front of him, where he was going and met Jack and Maggie at the door to the garage.

The drive to the store was a short one, and Jack and Maggie chattered about music the whole time, drowning out The Who that were playing on the tape deck. Maggie apparently had more modern tastes than Jack and Dean, and she was enjoying catching up on the hits of this world after being without music in her world for years.

When they reached the store, Dean pulled them to a stop in the parking lot, and Maggie grabbed a cart while Jack pulled the lists from his pocket and examined them with a frown. “What’s Old Spice and why does Bobby want two bottles?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “It’s aftershave, and he wants two because he drowns himself in it. Our Bobby liked it too, though he went a little lighter on it.”

“It makes sense,” Maggie said thoughtfully. “In our world, we didn’t get to clean up often, and when we did, things like soap were at a premium. Someone had to have just come from a raid for us to have it. You got used to smelling bad. I guess Bobby is still not used to being clean.”

Dean frowned. He’d not thought about the practical parts of that world and the people that lived in it. He’d noticed they smelled bad, but by the time he’d gotten out, so had he; he’d also been sweaty and dirty.

“Oh, that does make sense,” he said awkwardly. “We’ll make sure to get it for him.”

They went through the automatic doors of the store and Dean trailed after Jack and Maggie as they strolled along the produce section.

His attention wasn’t on what he was doing, and he grabbed things from the shelves and tossed them into the cart without thought. It wasn’t until they stopped abruptly and Dean walked into Jack that he snapped back to what he was doing.

“Do we need seven lettuces?” Jack asked.

Dean looked into the cart and saw that along with the lettuces he’d also put in three packs of tomatoes and four bags of apples. He grinned and said, “Maybe not.” He took one lettuce from the small pile and put it back on the shelf. “That’s better.”

Maggie looked between the cart and Dean and said, “I didn’t know you liked salad so much.”

“I don’t,” Dean said with a grimace. “I’m shopping for Sam.”

“Okay,” Jack said slowly. “But I thought Sam had to be really careful with stuff like this. Can he even eat any of it?”

“No, probably not,” Dean said. “Stick it back on the shelf for me. I’ll go grab the beers.”

He wandered away, trailing the aisles until he found the right section where he took two six-packs and tucked a third under his arm. He didn’t bother to go back to find Jack and Maggie, he just stood staring out of the window where heavy rain had started to fall.

Jack and Maggie found him, and he put the beers into the cart as a bolt of lightning flashed across the window and thunder rumbled.

Maggie hugged her arms around herself and muttered, “I hate thunder.”

“We’ll be fine,” Dean said. “It’s just storm season.”

“In our world, there were storms all over the country when Michael and Lucifer fought,” she said. “That was when we knew that something really bad was happening. After Lucifer was killed, Michael and his angels really went into action.”

Jack put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to him. “It’s okay. That won’t happen here. I’m going to stop him.”

Maggie nodded dutifully but she still looked doubtful.

“I am,” Jack said emphatically. “I’m so much stronger now. It’s coming back. Soon I’ll be able to kill him.” 

“We know, kid,” Dean said. “You’ll do it when you’re ready.”

Lightning flashed again and Maggie flinched.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dean said, taking the cart and pushing it towards the registers.

Maggie and Jack loaded the groceries onto the belt and Dean waited with his wallet open as the items were scanned and bagged. When they were done, he paid with cash, sending a mental curse once again to Ketch for hiding the fact they actually had money as part of the bunker set-up, and then pushed the cart out to the door.

“Stay here,” he said to Jack and Maggie as they sheltered under the awning. “I’ll get the trunk open.”

Bundling his jacket around him, he jogged to the car and popped the trunk then gestured to Jack and Maggie. They jogged over, Jack pushing the cart, and quickly loaded the bags inside. Dean had just closed the trunk when he heard the howl of a dog ripping through the air. He figured it was scared of the storm, and he wondered if it had someone with it to get it inside then quickly dismissed the thought. He wasn’t a dog person, that was Sam’s thing. If he was there, he’d probably be tracking the sound and making sure it was okay, maybe stopping to rub its belly, getting himself soaked to the skin in the process.

“Dean! What’s that?” Jack asked, his tone stressed as the howl came again, much closer now.

Dean turned to reassure him and saw that Jack was pointing. There was a dog on the other side of the parking lot, but it was no normal dog. It was no clear breed and its black coat was slicked to its skin with the rain, but its eyes were glowing red and fixed on Dean.

“Get in the car,” he growled. “Now!”

“But what is it?”

“Car! Now!”

Jack and Maggie obeyed, and Dean walked slowly forward and yanked open the door and threw himself inside. His fingers, slick with rain, fumbled with the keys, and he wiped them on his dry shirt under his jacket and then tried again, managing to turn them and bring the engine to life.

“What was it?” Jack asked.

“What was what?” Maggie asked, her voice higher pitched than usual with fear.

“Didn’t you see it?” Dean asked.

“I didn’t see anything.”

Dean shoved the car into gear and pulled them out of their spot, the dog watching them in the rearview mirror. “Did you hear a howl?”

“No,” she said.

That meant it wasn’t there for her.

“It was a black dog,” he said tersely.

“That wasn’t just a dog,” Jack protested.

“No,” Dean agreed. “It was worse.”

It was a reaper’s pet, death approaching for one of them, fast.

And if it was him, it wasn’t one life. If he died, Sam did, too.


	27. Chapter 27

Castiel heard the door fly open, and he looked up as Jack, Maggie and Dean rushed down the stairs.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asked.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Castiel said. “What’s wrong?”

“We saw a hellhound,” Jack said.

“No, we didn’t,” Dean said tersely, going to the entrance to the hall that led to the kitchen and shouting for his brother.

Sam jogged in a moment later, Mary and Bobby on his heels. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“We saw a hellhound,” Jack said again.  

“No! We didn’t!” Dean snapped.

Sam blanched and staggered towards Dean. His hands settling on Dean’s collar, fingers gripping the wet fabric tightly, he growled, “What did you do?”

Dean extricated himself from Sam’s grip and stared him in the eyes. “I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t a hellhound. It was a black dog.”

If possible, Sam looked even worse.

Mary gasped. “Who saw it?”

“I did,” Jack said. “And Dean. Maggie couldn’t even hear it.”

Mary’s eyes moved between her sons, her face horrified.

“What is a black dog?” Maggie asked.

“A death omen,” Bobby said gruffly. “But they only usually appear to one person at a time.”

Castiel cleared his throat, pushing down the swell of fear, and said, “But angels can see them. They don’t need to be the target.” His eyes moved from Sam, who was staring at Dean, to Dean himself who was staring down at the floor. “It was there for Dean.”

Jack sucked in a sharp breath. “It doesn’t have to be. Maybe it was there for someone else and we just saw it.”

“Dean is going to die?” Maggie asked.

“No!” Sam snapped. “We’re going to stop it before it happens.”

An oddly sympathetic smile crossed Dean’s face. “Sammy, it’s not just me. If I die, you do, too.”

Sam nodded. “I know.”

He didn’t seem concerned about his own impending end though. His eyes were only for Dean, and his face was strained. Castiel thought he was less concerned about himself and more consumed with his brother’s fate, just as Dean appeared to be Sam’s.

“Okay,” Bobby said. “The usual timeframe is within three days of the sighting.”

“That’s good,” Mary said. “We have time to stop it. The lore says if we kill the dog, we stop the death.”

“That’s the lore,” Bobby said, “but the lore can be wrong.” When Mary blanched, he apologized.

“We need to find it,” Dean said. “We know they bring electrical storms with them, and they’re found at the center. There was a huge storm in town, but it stopped quickly. We need to find the next.”

“I’ll look,” Maggie said, rushing into the library and opening the laptop.

“We’re going to need angel blades,” Sam said. “And holy oil would be good.”

“You’re not going after it!” Mary said, her eyes wild.

“We’ve got to, Mom,” Dean said. “It’s going to be me it is rushing towards.”

“All the more reason for you to stay inside,” Bobby said. “Black dogs come with reapers, and you can’t stop them. We don’t know what the death will be, but if the reaper can’t get at you, you’ll be a lot safer. I thought this place was protected.”

“It is,” Castiel said. “Every part of it is warded, even the room doors.”

“Then you’re staying here,” Mary said. “Jack, you’re staying, too. There’s a chance it might have been coming for you, too. And you’ll add a layer of protection. Me and Cas will go find it.”

“It’s moving away,” Maggie called from the library. “Heading south.”

“You keep tracking it,” Mary said. “Keep in touch. I want to know if it changes direction. Cas, are you ready?”

“Wait!” Sam said, holding up his hands. “This is dangerous, Mom. Dean might be the target, but if the dog sees you coming for it, it might attack you.”

Mary shot him a smile. “This is my job, Sam.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I get that you’re a hunter, but this is not just any hunt…”

Mary shook her head. “I’m not just a hunter, I’m a mother, too, and this is coming for my sons. I’m killing it.” Without another word, she walked up the stairs and to the door.

“I’ll come along,” Bobby said, starting after her. “Me and Rufus took a black dog out in the nineties.”

Castiel started after them and Dean grabbed his arm. Castiel stopped and looked back at him. “I’ve got to go, Dean,” he said. “There might not be much time.”

“I know,” Dean said. “But I need to talk to you. Jack, can you give us a minute?”

Jack frowned but said, “Yeah. I’ll go get some dry clothes.”

When was gone, Dean released Castiel and said, “You’ve got to do something for us, Cas.”

“Anything,” Castiel said seriously.

Dean looked at Sam and a moment of unspoken communication passed between them then Sam nodded stiffly and said, “You keep her safe, too, Cas, understand?”

There was intensity in both their faces and Castiel felt the need in them as if it was a physical thing.

“It doesn’t matter what it takes,” Dean said. “Knock her out if you have to and lock her in the trunk. Just make sure she’s safe.”

“I will,” Castiel promised.

“You have to,” Sam said. “There’s no point saving either of us otherwise.”

Castiel knew he should have expected it, but the weight of their words was like a pressure on his chest. He was not new to responsibility, not even new to the responsibility of a Winchester’s life, but the raw need in them both was difficult to bear. He had been consumed with saving both of them, but now he saw it was bigger than that.

“I promise to protect her,” he said then stepped back and rushed up the stairs.

He felt their eyes on him as he opened the door and hurried out. He understood how they felt as he felt it for them all. This wasn’t just about protecting Sam and Dean; it was about them all. No Winchester would live without the others. If Mary lost her sons, she would destroy herself to save them, and they would do the same for her.

It was down to Castiel to save them all. 

xXx

Dean changed into dry clothes and ran a cursory towel through his hair to dry it then tossed it and the wet clothes in the laundry hamper and headed back to the library. Sam and Jack were waiting for him, Jack looking wary as Sam paced.

“There’s no point us sitting here and trying to guess at what’s happening,” Sam was saying. “We might as well do something.”

Dean looked incredulous and Sam nodded at him and then gave Jack a pointed look, the message clear: if we can’t do this for ourselves, we’ve got to do it for the kid.

Dean took a breath, swallowed down the knot of anxiety in his throat and said, “Come with me.”

Jack walked at his side and Sam followed after them through the halls to the entertainment room Dean had set up. He pushed opened the door and gestured them in.

Jack looked around, his eyes wide as he took in the jukebox, Foosball table, TV and three La-Z-Boy recliners, the third added for Castiel after the crazy Scooby Doo crap—though Dean supposed that they needed more now Mary and Jack were back, and said, “Why have I never been in here before?”

“You were in that apocalypse world when Dean set it up, and we’ve not exactly been in the right place for a movie night since,” Sam said.

“And we are now?” Dean asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Sam nodded firmly. “Yes. We’re going to go crazy sitting around doing nothing, so we might as well watch something while we wait.”

Though his words were light, Dean saw Sam’s struggle and knew how he was feeling. He clearly didn’t want this either, to sit back and watch a movie while people they cared about were out there risking their lives for them, but he wanted Jack distracted. Dean understood the intent but he was struggling with it, too. He was worried about his family. 

Dean nodded and forced a smile that came out as more of a grimace. “Okay, but I’m choosing the movie.”

Sam nodded and smiled as Jack drifted over to the Foosball table and spun one of the small plastic men, asking, “What’s this?”

“That’s the staple entertainment for college kids in all states, right, Sammy?”

Sam shrugged. “Not me so much, but mostly, yeah.”

Falling into the role, Dean said, “Yeah, I forgot your college experience was all about studying and smoking basil.”

Jack looked at Sam, his eyes wide. “You went to college, Sam?”

“Yeah. A lifetime ago,” Sam said. “It’s a long story.”

“What happened?” Jack asked.

“Like I said, long story.” He went to the shelves and ran a finger over the neat lines of DVDs. “Do you have anything that’s not bad horror?”

Dean pointed an accusing finger at him and said, “One, All Saints Day is not _bad_ horror, and two, yes, I’ve got Die Hard. And three, I’m choosing the movie.”

Sam sighed theatrically. “Well, it’s not Christmas, so we might as well go with Hatchet Man. He’s probably better than anything else you’ve got in here.”

“Who’s Hatchet Man?” Jack asked.

“David Yaeger,” Dean said. “He’s awesome.”

Sam shrugged. “I prefer Jason Vorhees.”

Dean snorted. “You would.”

Jack smiled and said, “Which chair is mine?”

“You can take the middle,” Dean said. “It has the optimal viewing angle, and the perfect positioning for surround sound.”

Jack frowned. “I thought all sound surrounded you.”

“Technically, it does,” Sam said. “But Dean’s got a special set up in here.”

Dean nodded. “And it took a lot of work, so you’d better appreciate it.”

“I will,” Jack said, sitting down then freezing as Sam hit the lever to raise the footrest so his legs flew up.

Dean took the DVD of All Saints Day and put it in the player then sat down on Jack’s other side and selected play on the menu and hit the button. “Sit back and enjoy, Jack,” he said. “You’re about to be educated.”

Jack relaxed in his seat, and Sam gave Dean a discreet nod, reassuring Dean that he was doing a good enough job to satisfy him. It was hard, Dean was wound tight, but if Sam and Jack needed him to play it normal, he would.

xXx

They had just finished the second movie when Mary called and told them the storm was settling in a small town close to Tulsa and they were on their way to it. She reassured them she’d be fine and hung up before Dean could do more than implore her to be careful.

He set the phone back on the arm of the chair and said, “They’ve narrowed it down to close to Tulsa.”

Sam nodded. “That’s good. They’ll get it.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “I know.”

The movie wasn’t working its magic. Usually, these things helped him wind down, but it seemed to be working in the opposite way. He was even tenser than before, and his thoughts were racing, though he thought there might be some relief if he could just speak to the right person. He’d been watching Mary Sue racing down the halls of the hospital with Hatchet Man on her heels, when Brett, the male lead, had dragged her into a room and barred the door. Hatchet Man was breaking down the door when the line that made the date Dean had taken to see the first movie swoon and gush was spoken. “While I am here, you’re safe.”

Dean knew that was a load of bull and Brett was going to be decapitated when Hatchet Man got the door open, but it had given him an idea that he was clinging to now. Mary was with Castiel who would die to protect her, and Dean and Sam were in the bunker, the best-protected place on earth, but there might be another layer of protection for Sam. Jo. Sam died with Dean, that was what Jessica had said, but that was before he had been possessed by an angel. Jo was literally keeping Sam functioning. What if she could keep him living, too?

“I’m hungry,” Jack said, rubbing his stomach.

Dean perked up, thinking of the opening for a moment alone with Sam—and by extension Jo—Jack was offering him, and he said, “It’s definitely time for snacks. Why don’t you head to the kitchen and see what looks good. Grab me some popcorn while you’re there.”

“Do we have popcorn?” Jack asked. “I haven’t seen any.”

“In the cupboard under the sink,” Sam said. “Dean keeps a stash behind the dish soap.”

“How do you know that?” Dean asked.

Sam huffed a laugh. “Because I’m all-knowing, because you’re predictable, and because I saw it when I did the dishes a couple of days ago. And if you weren’t so damn greedy, you could keep it in the cupboard.”

“I could,” Dean agreed. “But that stuff is like crack to mom. I have to keep it away from her. I’m going to need to find a new hiding place.”

“You are,” Sam said. “But you can keep your licorice in the cupboard. You’re the only one that likes that crap.”

Just because it’s too refined for your crappy taste buds…”

“My _palate_ is fine,” Sam said. “That stuff tastes like dirt.”

“Can I try it?” Jack asked.

“Yes!” Dean said. “And you can help me explain to Sam why it’s awesome. Check on Maggie while you’re there. I’ll get the next movie lined up.”

Jack fumbled with the lever and Sam took pity on him, showing him how to lower the footrest. When he was upright, Jack waved a hand and left the room.

Dean stood and ejected the disc and lined up another, biting his lip, thinking over what he needed to do. When he’d wanted to speak to Gadreel, he’d pretty much come. He didn’t know if Jo would, and if he was too obvious, Sam would pick up on it and maybe add it to what he was told in the hospital, figuring out what was going on.

He felt Sam’s eyes on him and turned, meeting his concerned gaze as Sam said, “They’re going to be okay, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I’d just feel better if we knew something for sure. If there was someone we could ask, someone we could talk to…”

Sam frowned. “Someone like who? We’re going to have to—” His back stiffened and his eyes glowed for a moment before narrowing and fixing on Dean. “Real subtle, Dean. Seriously. Sam will never notice that. Do you actually want him to find out? Because I thought I’d made it clear what that would mean for him.”

“You did,” Dean said. “But I need to ask you something.”

“Obviously,” Jo said. “And I don’t have good news. Barely anything has changed. If I leave Sam now, he _will_ be ruined, so you better not be having second thoughts about telling him.”

“I’m not,” Dean said quickly. “That’s not what I need to know.”

“Get it over with then. I’m going to have to wipe yet another screw up from Sam’s head, and the longer it takes, the more he’s going to suspect something else is going on.”

“If I die, will Sam?” Dean asked urgently. “Or will the fact you’re in there protect him?”

She considered a moment. “I don’t really know. I wouldn’t like to bet on my power being stronger than Death’s. It’s more likely that I’ll be killed along with you both. So if you could stay alive, I’d be grateful.”

Dean cursed. He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised, Winchester luck ran in one direction, but the small hope he’d had for Sam if he died was lost. He had to rely on Castiel, Mary, and Bobby to save their asses now. They were good, but this was a reaper, and if the dog slipped them, they were both screwed. If he saw the dog again, it would be the last time. The lore said that it would be the last thing he saw.

“Are you done?” Jo asked. “I have a conversation to wipe.

“Yeah,” Dean said tiredly. “I’m done.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and then relaxed against the seat as Jack came back with a tray of snacks. Sam’s eyes were closed and his expression smooth, and then he came back to himself with a jerk and looked around

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said with forced cheer. “You okay?”

Sam glanced at his watch, frowned, and said, “Yeah, fine. Where’s Jack?”

“Here,” Jack said from the doorway. “I went to get snacks, remember?”

Sam nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“I found the licorice,” Jack said. “And some Fritos. Can you eat any of this, Sam?”

Still looking confused, Sam nodded and said. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be back in a minute. Bathroom.”

He got to his feet and wandered out of the room, looking a little vague. Dean watched him go, his brow furrowed.

“Is he really okay?” Jack asked.

“He’s fine,” Dean said easily. “I think he’s more tired than he thought. He just drifted off for a minute.”

“I thought I saw…” Jack shook his head. “Nothing.” He set the tray on the table in front of them and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “I like these movies,” he said.

“That’s because you’ve got taste,” Dean said with a smile, though internally he was reeling. Jack had seen something. Had it been Jo? He was partially an angel, and they could _see_ each other. Did he know something? He seemed to have dismissed it as quickly as it had come, but Dean was torn. He didn’t want to tell Jack about Jo as the kid was too damn innocent and honest to be able to keep a secret like that, and if Sam found out…

He shook his head. Jack would have said if he’d seen something. Dean was just seeing problems where there were none. They already had enough to deal with.

He picked up the remote and then looked to the door as it clicked open. Maggie peered in, her face tense and eyes bright.

“What’s wrong, Maggie?” Sam asked.

“It’s the storm,” she said. “It’s heading here again. I think…” She licked her lips. “I think it’s time.”


	28. Chapter 28

Mary’s eyes were fixed on the road ahead and her fingers were clamped around the steering wheel. She had been scared a lot in her life, a lot more since she came back to life, but she’d never been as scared as she was now that both of her sons’ lives were on the line. She felt like she was choking on her fear, and she wanted to be with them but knew the only way to save them was to leave them and find the black dog to kill.

Castiel was a silent presence at her side, and Bobby sat on the back seat, occasionally talking and putting calls in to Maggie who was tracking the storm for them.

Mary knew Bobby was worried, but this wasn’t his fear the way it was Mary and Castiel’s. Sam and Dean didn’t belong to Bobby they way they did them. It was different. He wasn’t the one that stood to lose a part of himself if they failed.

They couldn’t fail. Even the idea was unbearable.

As they approached Wichita, rain began to pelt the windshield and Mary put on the wipers to clear her vision. They had gone on another few minutes when the thunder started to rumble, and her heart kicked up a notch.

“It could just be a natural storm,” Castiel said.

“Get Maggie on the phone,” she snapped. “I need to know what this is.”

Before Bobby could do more than dial the first digit, it began to ring and he connected it on speaker. “Maggie?”

 _“It’s moving!”_ she said urgently _. “Heading back to the bunker fast.”_  

Mary cursed and spun the wheel, skidding on the rain-slick road and swinging them into the other lane. Bobby squawked with shock and Castiel gripped the seat as people leaned on their horns. The cars that had braked to avoid hitting them skidded, and a minivan collided with a small Ford three-door.

“Mary,” Castiel said cautiously.

“Don’t say it!” Mary snapped. “It’s going to _them_!”

Castiel nodded and peered out of the window at the storm.

 _“What’s going on?”_ Maggie asked.  

“We’re on our way,” Bobby said. “Stay inside.” He ended the call and said, “They’re good.”

“For how long?” Mary asked.

“Long enough,” Bobby said. “But that’s not what I meant. I mean that your sons are damn good hunters. I keep hearing about things they’ve done, and it’s pretty unbelievable—”

“But all true,” Castiel interjected.

“Yeah, so they can handle this,” Bobby said. “They’re in the bunker. They’re protected.”

Castiel shook his head. “You don’t understand. You’re not our Bobby.”

“I’m not,” he agreed. “And it sounds like he had something special with them, but I still care, and I don’t want either of them hurt. I just know they can handle it.” He drew a deep breath. “And I know risking three lives to save one isn’t smart.”

Mary gasped. “Are you seriously saying we should let this happen?”

“No, I’m saying we need to get there in one piece if we’re going to help.”

“It’s two lives,” Mary growled. “The lives of _both_ of my sons.”

“I know,” Bobby said again. “But—”

“No!” Castiel snarled. “No buts. You don’t understand so you don’t talk.”

He fixed his eyes on Mary, seeming to be willing her to drive faster. Mary switched gears and slammed her foot down on the accelerator. There was somewhere she needed to be. Her sons needed her.

xXx

Castiel saw the dog at the door of the bunker. It was on its hindlegs, scrabbling at the metal as it tried to gain entry. As Castiel shouted, “Stop the car!” it threw back its head and howled.

Castiel threw himself out of the still-moving car and drew his blade. The dog turned to him and its lips curled back from its mouth in a snarl.

“Stay there!” Castiel shouted to Mary and Bobby as he ran forward, but he knew they hadn’t listened. The car doors were opening and boots slapped on the muddy road as the storm raged above.

The dog stalked toward Castiel and he braced himself. He was the only one that could see it, so he would kill it. He would save them.

He was within feet of it when the dog crouched and sprang at him. Castiel slashed out with his blade but missed as the dog collided hard with his chest, knocking him back and making him drop his blade. It was no ordinary black dog; it was stronger and faster.

His head hit the wet ground hard and he struggled to sit up, but the dog was pinning him. He looked up into its red eyes and saw the light swimming within them. It carried Michael’s grace as the vampires and werewolves had, and it was possibly more dangerous than them both.

Hot breath panted in his face and the dog lowered its head to Castiel’s throat.

“Cas!” Mary shouted.

Castiel struggled to free himself, but the dog was too heavy to shift. He laid a hand on the dog’s chest and said, “Here, Mary!”

She appeared in his line of sight and jabbed at what to her would be like to thin air just above his hand. The dog howled as the angel blade sank into its side.

“Again!” Castiel said, snatching his hand away from Mary’s thrusting blade and shoving at the dog’s chest.

Mary struck again and the blade sank into the dog’s chest, pushing it off of Castiel as it whined in pain.

Castiel sprang to his feet and grabbed up his blade. The dog was whining but not retreating. It had set its sights on Mary and was preparing to spring as she swung her blade through the air, trying to find purchase on it.

Castiel rushed forward and sliced across the dog’s throat with the blade. Blood gushed and Mary gasped, her eyes widening as the dying dog appeared to her. A steely look crossed her face and she began to stab at the dog with abandon even as it collapsed on the mud and stilled.

He allowed her a minute to vent her rage as Bobby stood behind her, shocked eyes on Mary as she sank the blade in the dog’s corpse again and again, and then he pulled the blade from her hand and dropped it onto the ground.

“It’s over,” he said quietly as he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s dead. They’re safe.”

Mary collapsed against him and began to sob. Castiel held her tightly and soothed as Bobby picked up her blade and walked back to the car. The engine cut off and the doors closed as Castiel stroked Mary’s back and murmured reassurances as she wept, the rain pelting down on them.

xXx

Sam checked the clip of his gun and slid it back into place. It was a nervous movement that he had been making for the past two hours since Maggie had come to tell them the storm was approaching. She’d also said Mary, Castiel and Bobby were coming back, but Sam worried they were too far away to be of any help. 

He wasn’t worried for himself; he never was at times like this. He was just scared that Dean was going to die. He knew from the sideways glances Dean kept shooting him, that his own worries were with Sam, not himself either. That was the way it had always been for them. They could handle what came for them. It was each other that they couldn’t lose.

Dean drew a deep breath. “They’ll be here soon.”

Sam nodded but didn’t speak. It was an empty reassurance and they both knew it. They might be coming, but so was the dog. There was no way to know which would get there first and if the bunker would be strong enough to keep the dog out.

Jack was with Maggie in Castiel’s bedroom where they’d laid down a reaper’s trap. They had no idea if it would work on a black dog, and the dog shouldn’t be a threat to Maggie or Jack, but they hadn’t wanted them close in case the dog wasn’t satisfied with their deaths alone. They didn’t know what form the death was going to take. The lore was vague. Black dogs were a death omen, but some cultures said they were the cause of death while others said they were just a portent that served a reaper. The dog could be coming to kill or just to witness as its reaper took their souls. 

They had their own reaper’s trap laid down, and they both had angel blades at their sides, but Sam still felt vulnerable. He was watching Dean carefully in case the death came in a natural form.

“You want to put the next movie on?” Dean asked.

Sam shot him an incredulous look that faltered when he saw the tight set of Dean’s eyes. He was trying for normal, wanting to help them both, but he was just as stressed as Sam was. The sharp return Sam was going to make died on his lips and he said, “Nah, Jack will be upset if he misses it. His taste in horror is as bad as yours. We can go with something else though.”

Dean went to the shelves and ran a finger along the titles. Sam sat back in his seat and tried to calm himself. His stomach was in knots and he had missed two meals which wasn’t helping. He was probably going to pay for it later. At least Dean hadn’t noticed. He would be stressing even more if he had.

Suddenly, the door flew open and a man strode in. He was wearing a long leather coat over black jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was slicked back from his head, and his blue eyes narrowed as he looked from Sam to Dean.

Sam jumped to his feet and grabbed up his blade and Dean launched himself towards his own resting on the side of the chair.

Seeming unconcerned, the man turned to the door and pressed his hand over the lock. There was the smell of overheating metal and the edges of the door glowed white. Sam used his distraction to rush forward, blade held ready for attack, but the man pushed a lazy arm out and shoved Sam away with a hand on his chest. The blade dropped from Sam’s hand as the breath rushed out of him, and he flew back into the wall, his head hitting hard and a grunt of pain leaving him.

“Rude,” the man scolded.

Dean took more care approaching, moving slowly with the blade held ready, but the man—or reaper—was ready for him. He snapped forward and swung a fist at Dean’s jaw that made Sam’s head rock to the side and the pain of what felt like at least two breaks drawing a moan from him. Dean’s head rocked to the side, too, but he didn’t make a sound, and he was able to speak without a sign of the pain Sam was feeling.

“Asshole!”

The man laughed. “Sticks and stones, Winchester.”

Sam crawled towards the chair while the man was distracted by Dean and grabbed his gun. He aimed it at the man’s heart and pulled the trigger, but when the bullet struck, it left no wound, only a neat hole in the material of his shirt. The man smirked and then caught Dean with an uppercut that jerked both Dean’s and Sam’s heads up. Sam sprawled back on the floor and his head hit hard for the second time. His eyes dimmed and he went limp, consciousness deserting him as Dean’s voice calling his name filled his ears along with a banging from somewhere he couldn’t locate.

xXx

Mary felt that she would cry forever she was so overwrought, but her sobs eventually slowed and Castiel said, “Let’s go tell them it’s over.”

Feeling a wave of relief that she could do it, that she had saved them, she straightened up and sniffed, her eyes red.

They walked down the steps to the door and Bobby knocked on it with a fisted hand. “Open up!”

There was a long wait and then Jack’s muffled voice spoke. “Who’s there?”

“It’s us, Jack,” Castiel said. “It’s over. The dog is dead.”

There was the sound of bolts disengaging and then the door creaked open and Jack appeared. He looked from face to face and then to the dead black dog on the mud-covered ground and grinned. “You really did it!”

“Mary did,” Castiel said.

“Where are they?” Mary asked, brushing past them.

“We were watching DVDs,” Jack said. “They’re in the fun room.”

Mary glanced back at him and frowned. “The what?”

Castiel smiled, “Come with me.”

Mary followed him down the steps at a fast pace, eager to see Sam and Dean now. He led her down a maze of halls and gestured to a door with a wide smile, allowing her to be first in and to tell them the news. She shot him a grateful smile and lifted her hand to knock when a gunshot rang out followed by Dean shouting Sam’s name.

Mary’s breath left her in a rush and the next drawn in was given to a cry of her sons’ names. She heard Dean shout Sam’s name again, and her heart froze with fear.

She rattled the handle and hammered on the door, but it was immovable. “Dean! Let me in! Sam!”

Castiel pushed her roughly aside and held his hand to the door, light pouring from his palm. The door rattled but didn’t open, and Mary slapped her hands on it again.

“Jack! Open it!” Castiel commanded, pulling Mary aside.

Jack stood in front of it and blasted it with golden light, but it remained stubbornly closed. Mary strained to hear over the pounding of her racing heart, but there were no sounds from inside. Were they both unconscious? Were they…?

No! They couldn’t be,

“What’s in there, Castiel?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know,” he groaned. “Jack, can you tell?”

Jack concentrated for a moment and then his eyes widened. “I don’t know what it is, but I can feel its power. It’s…” He swallowed hard. “It’s stronger than anything I’ve felt before.”

“It’s not Michael?” Mary asked.

“No. It’s stronger.”

Castiel slammed his shoulder into the door as Mary moaned.

Her sons were in there, facing something worse than Michael even, and she couldn’t get to them. Dean’s voice when he had called Sam’s name was distraught. What was happening? And why… why couldn’t she hear him now?

xXx

As Sam slumped unconscious on the floor, Dean shouted his name automatically, as if knowing Dean was with him would help him hang on, but Sam remained perfectly still. The door was rattling and Dean could hear voices outside, hands slapping the door, but it was firmly closed and he knew he was alone.

His jaw barely hurt at all, despite the force of the blows, as Sam had taken the brunt of them. The blows that had landed on Dean had knocked Sam unconscious.

As worried as Dean was, as much as he wanted to help his brother, he had to push that aside and focus on the threat to save both their lives.

The man raised an eyebrow as Dean grabbed up the dropped blade and stalked towards him.

“I came for Sam,” he said. “My orders were to get him to Michael, but now I see who he’s got tucked down deep inside…” He closed his eyes and a look of exquisite happiness crossed his face. “I am going to be rewarded. Michael wants her, too.”

Dean wanted to ask more, but he knew he had to act. The man was standing on the edges of the trap, and it would only take one step back for him to be inside it. If the being was a reaper as Dean suspected, he could trap him and kill him with one well-timed and executed attack.

He stood on the balls of his feet and leaped forward, springing at the man, but he was too slow. The man slammed a fist into the center of his chest and forced the air out of him as he fell back into Sam’s chair. At the same moment, Dean heard Sam’s slow breaths leave him in a gust.

The man laughed as he took a step back into the trap, and Dean thought he had him, but he bent and touched the carefully drawn lines and a ripple of flame shot across the trap, consuming it and leaving unmarked floor beneath.

“Nice try,” he said. “Now, I can’t hurt you, orders are orders, but I am going to take what I came for and leave. Michael will be in touch soon, I’m sure.”

He walked towards Sam and bent to grab his arm. The fists were still pounding on the door, and Dean shouted for the only person that he thought could save Sam. “Jo!”

Sam’s eyes opened, glowing, and Jo got to her feet and backed away, a look of fear on her face as she faced the man that was straightening in front of her.

“Isaac!” she said.

The reaper smiled. “Jo, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry to do this, but…” He slammed a fist into the side of her head and, just as Sam had, Jo crumpled, her eyes closing and her face becoming peaceful.

The man, Isaac, chuckled, but then his eyes widened and his lips parted as a glow of light burst from him, so bright that Dean had to shield his eyes. The body dropped and Billie was revealed standing behind him, her scythe bloodied.

“Hey, Dean,” she said.

Dean scrambled to his feet and rushed to Sam’s side, dropping and pressing his fingers to his throat. There was a strong thrum of life beneath—of course—but he was unmoving and Dean was worried what kind of damage had been done to him from a blow that had knocked out an angel.

“He’ll be fine,” Billie said. “Jo will heal him when she wakes up. We need her sleeping now though. You and I need to talk.”

Dean got to his feet and rubbed a hand over his face, recognizing the quiet at the same moment. The pounding of the door had stopped and there were no calling voices. “What have you done to them?” he asked.

“Just stopped them,” Billie said. “Time has ceased to pass for them for a moment. They won’t recognize the difference. We don’t have long though. She will wake soon, and I need to warn you.”

“About Jo?” Dean asked. “What’s she doing?” He licked his lips. “Is she hurting him?”

“No, she’s actually trying to heal him, but she’s a risk to him with her presence. Michael wants her and Sam both, and as Isaac just proved, if Michael can have them both at once, he will be very happy. Jo is dangerous.”

“Why does he want them?” Dean asked.

Billie sighed as if disappointed by the question. “He wants Jo to be his second in command. She is the only angel on earth since Naomi sealed Heaven to sustain what’s left of it, and he’s missing his army. He is trying to swell his ranks with monsters and my reapers, but my reapers are resisting. Well, most of them are. Isaac was always hungry for power. I imagine the promise of grace lured him. As you saw, the trap couldn’t hold him, thanks to Michael.”

Dean nodded as he processed the information and then asked, “Why does he want Sammy?”

“He wants him to get at you. He knows he will not be able to persuade you to let him in again with pain or threats; he saw your whole mind when he was in you and knows the strength and history you have. He also saw your connection with Sam, the things you have and will do for him, and that’s given him an idea. If he can separate you, lure you out, he will be able to weaken you. He doesn’t know about the connection Jessica forged between you, but he will as soon as he sees either one of you. Or he finds the right reaper.”

“Does he have a vessel now?”

“Not yet, but he will. There are humans of the faint bloodline he can use, and there are reapers. I think he will choose a reaper. They’re stronger.”

“That’s possible?” Dean asked.

Billie rolled her eyes. “You’re forgetting your history, Dean. Didn’t Lucifer use your friend Castiel? Didn’t Azazel use Tessa? They can house something other than themselves. He will come back when he does.”

Dean’s eyes darted to Sam again, seeing the even movement of his breaths, and asked. “Can you kill him?”

“Can I? Yes. Will I? No. It’s not my responsibility. You allowed him to come to this world through your rift. You can stop him now he’s here.”

“Me?”

“Perhaps. There are many foretold deaths for the archangel, and your friend Jack is just one of them, though he is not yet ready. I can feel him on the other side of that door and he’s not strong enough.” She glanced at Sam and said, “She’s starting to stir. We don’t have long. You need to be careful of her, Dean. If she finds that Michael wants her, she will leave you, taking Sam with her. He’s a strong vessel.”

Dean remembered the nightmare of Gadreel and how it had felt to track him, and he shuddered at the thought of doing it again. Jo was wilier than he had been. She would be clever and careful to hide. They might not be able to find her, and if they did, how could they save Sam without her?

“What do I do?” he asked. “Sam’s too damaged to be without her?”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed. “All you can do is watch her and be prepared to trap her for your brother’s sake.”

Sam groaned and Dean’s eyes snapped to him, wondering if it would be Sam’s awareness or Jo’s that he would see.

“Be careful, Dean,” Billie said, and when Dean’s eyes moved back to her, she was gone and the pounding on the door returned.

“Dean?” Sam moaned, his eyes opening and his real self, not the angel’s awareness, in them. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dean said, taking his hand and easing him to his feet. “How are you doing?”

“Headache, but otherwise good,” Sam said. His eyes moved to the reaper on the floor and he said, “You killed him.”

“Billie did. She also dropped a bomb on us about Michael.” He patted Sam’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get this door open before Mom kicks her way through it.”

Sam huffed a laugh and called, “We’re okay. Give us a minute.”

“Sam? Dean?” Mary’s voice was filled with fear.

“Yeah, we’re here. We’re okay,” Dean called back.

Sam picked up his gun and used the butt to hit the lock that had been seared closed.

Dean watched him work, mulling over what he’d heard. The threat of Michael taking Sam was enough to scare him, but the thought of Jo doing it was oddly worse. He’d thought the worst thing could be her leaving him too soon, but now he had a new nightmare. She could take him away altogether. He had to share what he knew with Castiel and see if he had any ideas of what they could do to protect Sam. Because Billie was right: Jo was dangerous.h


	29. Chapter 29

Sam came back to himself standing in front of the counter in the kitchen, the six-pack of beer hanging from his fingers and the ticking of the clock over the stove in his ears. He forced himself to look at it, to see how long it had been, and was horrified that more than five minutes had passed. This was happening more and more, and it was really starting to scare him. Combined with the scans they’d done at the hospital, it was enough to have him on edge all the time. He was terrified of what it might mean. It was only his faith in Castiel that stopped him searching himself; Castiel would never lie about this, not after what happened last time.

He was starting to think it was time to share the strain with Dean. As much as he wanted to shield Dean from additional worry, he needed his big brother’s reassurances.

He held the box of beers by the base, in case the condensation that had formed had weakened it, and carried it back through to the library that was busy with people. Rowena was poring over the Book of the Damned open beside the notes their Charlie had made with the codex; Charlie was teaching Maggie the craft of hacking various databases with a laptop open in front of them; Mary and Dean were leaning against the table deep in conversation; Castiel had a book open that he was reading with a look of intense concentration; and Jack was pushing himself out of his chair and wandering away muttering something about a snack.

Sam felt separate from them all, as if there was a thick wall of stone between them, the wall formed by his secret. Only Castiel knew some of it and only the smallest part. Sam had never told him what they’d said in the hospital.

He cleared his throat and tried to breach the wall by becoming part of the scene. “You find anything in there, Rowena?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, her tone indicating that Sam wasn’t the first person to have asked. “And I will find nothing. I have read this book cover to cover and all I found that was remotely helpful for an archangel was the expulsion spell. No one seems to believe me though, so I am here, reading it again.”

“Okay,” Sam said quietly. “Thanks.”

Rowena looked up at him and gave him an acid smile. “You’re very welcome, Samuel. Of course, there is nothing I would rather be doing.”

“There’s stuff we’d all rather be doing,” Dean said. “But Michael is what we’ve got to deal with, and you and that book are the only weapons we can use without risking Jack’s neck.”

Rowena scowled and turned a page.  

“What about you, Maggie,” Sam said. “Learning anything good?”

Maggie looked up from the laptop and said, “I’m learning _everything_ good. Charlie is incredible.”

“You’re a good student,” Charlie said. “You’re making me doubt myself actually. I hardly socialized as a teenager as I was busy perfecting my skills, but the way you’re picking it up makes me think I should have gone out more. It’s apparently not that hard after all.”

“That’s because you’re a good teacher,” Maggie said.

Charlie beamed. “Why thank you. It’s not just me though. This place is seriously well equipped. The WiFi speeds alone are… wow. And Windows 10 is incredible. I thought Windows 7 was cool, but this is awesome. It’s like it was made for stuff like this.”

Dean laughed. “Welcome to the future, Charlie. It’s a helluva place.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “It’s not like I’m a time traveler. I was just living in a post-apocalyptic nightmare for years without the internet. Honestly, I’m surprised I’m not more rusty.”

“Genius like yours doesn’t go away,” Dean said.

Charlie looked amused. “So, your Charlie was good?”

“She was incredible,” Sam said fervently. ”Who do you think set us up with all our tech here? This place was abandoned in the fifties and we only showed up a few years ago. We were lucky to have power and water. Charlie was amazing.

“Then we’re not that different after all,” Charlie said with a grin.

“You’re really not,” Dean said. “Ours was brave as all hell, too.”

Charlie cast her eyes back to the laptop, a hint of embarrassed flush in her cheeks, and said, “So, when it’s small-town PD records you’re going for, you have to bypass their firewall, which is generally a bit of a joke…”

Sam watched her for a moment, feeling a pang for their Charlie. He would do anything to have her back, even more now that her doppelganger was showing them clearly what they were missing. Her death had been one in a long line of them over the years, people they’d lost to the fight, but it felt worse to Sam than some as it was his fault. She’d been young, brilliant, with so much to offer the world, but because he had called her in to help him save Dean from the Mark of Cain, those bastard Stynes had murdered her.

Shaking off the depressing thoughts, he handed out the beers and leaned against the table beside Dean who twisted off his cap and nudged Sam with his elbow. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said quickly. “Fine.”

Bobby strode into the library, a duffel over his shoulder and a tense look in his eyes. “I’ve got to head out,” he said. “I got a call from Jules and her team. She said they might have one of the super-monsters on their hands. Leaves gore marks like a werewolf, but it’s eating all the organs, not just the hearts. I’m going to help them check it out.”

Dean pushed away from the table and asked, “Do you want us to come help out?”

“Nah,” Bobby said easily. “They can handle it. They’re getting damn good at what they’re doing, and there’s enough of them to take out one alone. Training time is over. They’ve got to start testing themselves. I’m just expecting to watch.”

Sam wasn’t sure Bobby was right about his peoples’ abilities, but he didn’t know how to point it out without angering the older hunter. And he was sure it would make no difference anyway. The super-monsters were more dangerous than anything they’d seen since the Leviathans, and they had been a nightmare to deal with. But their Bobby had always been stubborn, and this version seemed to have an extra helping of it. All Sam could do was hope that it was confidence in his people that was driving him, not a willingness to lose them as he had lost so many before for the cause. 

“We’re only a call away if you change your mind,” he said, though, as the words left him, he wondered what good he could really be for them. If he zoned out and lost time at the wrong moment, he could get people killed. Maybe he needed to take a step back.

Frustratingly, he felt his eyes burning at the idea. He was a hunter, he saved lives and protected people, but that might need to stop for the sake of others.

“Hey,” Dean said, nudging him again. “What’s wrong?”

Sam drew a breath and said, “I need to talk to you,” before walking away.

He felt Dean following him, and he led them to the kitchen where Jack was just cutting a sandwich in two and dropping the knife into the sink.

“Clear out, Jack,” Dean said roughly.

Jack looked from face to face, confused, and then picked up his plate and said, “Okay,” then hurried out of the room. 

“Thanks, Jack,” Sam called after him, feeling bad for the way Dean had dismissed him but relieved that he could talk to his brother alone.

Sam pulled out a chair and sat down. After a moment’s hesitation, Dean did the same, sitting opposite him, and clasping his hands on the tabletop. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Sam drew a breath and steeled himself before saying what he knew he needed to. This couldn’t just be his and Castiel’s secret anymore. Dean deserved the truth. “I think there’s something wrong with me,” he said.

He could see Dean’s struggle to keep his expression smooth as he said, “Okay. What do you think is wrong?”

“I’m spacing out, losing awareness,” Sam said. “It happens all the time. It just happened when I came in here to get the beers. At first, it was sleepwalking, and I figured it was just some side effect of the trauma after Michael, but it’s different. I will go to sleep in my bed and wake up in the weirdest parts of the bunker, storerooms we never use, empty bedrooms, and a couple times in the library. And now it’s happening when I’m awake. I will lose time, whole minutes at a time, with no idea what happened when I was ‘gone’.”

Dean blew out a deep breath, his eyes a little tighter than normal, but he didn’t look surprised which confused Sam. It was as if he’d been expecting something like this all along. It had happened a couple of times in front of him, Sam knew, but he’d thought he’d covered his slips well enough.

“I told Cas,” Sam said quietly, an admission. “He thinks it’s something to do with the brain damage, that it’s a side effect of my brain rewiring, but I’m not sure. Dean, they saw something in the hospital.”

Dean’s hands fisted, the knuckles turning white, but his face remained smooth, the way it did when he was really stressed or upset and trying to hide it. Sam could always see the signs, just like he did now. He hated that he was upsetting his brother, but he owed him the truth and he needed to know why Sam was going to step down.

“What did they see?” Dean asked.

“Activity where there shouldn’t be any. The dead cells were firing like crazy, and they shouldn’t be active at all. I thought…” He closed his eyes. “When I started losing time, it was like when Gadreel had me, and I was scared there was another angel in me. I was scared it had happened again, because the recovery was insane, and—”

“It was the grace!” Dean said quickly. “It saved you.”

“Yeah, but it did it in a weird way.” He shook his head. “Cas says there’s no angel in me, and I want to believe him, but the time-losses and what they saw on the scan make me think….”

Dean swallowed hard and asked, “Have you looked, tried to see if you can feel something?”

Sam shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “I thought about it. I guess I’m scared of what I’ll find. And I don’t want Cas to be lying to me.”

“I don’t think Cas would lie about this after what happened last time, and I swear on Mom’s life that I didn’t help an angel into you. I would never do that to you again, but…” He seemed to brace himself. “Okay, way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You trust Cas, believe there’s no one there, or you look yourself.”

Sam looked away. That was what he was scared to do. If he was possessed by an angel, it meant he’d been violated and betrayed again. He would…

He sucked in a huge breath and looked around the room. For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was or what was happening, a familiar feeling, and then it rushed back at him and he saw Dean’s worried eyes watching him, his pale face set into lines of stress.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” he said.

Dean nodded slowly. “It did, but you were only gone a minute.”

Sam closed his eyes, willing back the tears, and then fixed them on his brother. “I have to look, don’t I?”

“I think you do,” Dean said sadly. “Do it now. I’m here. I can help if you need it… after. Whatever happens, Sammy, we’re going to fix it, I promise.”

“Okay,” Sam said quietly. “Here goes…”

He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, a feat that was made quite difficult by his racing heart and thoughts, and then drew inwards. He felt around himself, searching for a sign of anything that didn’t belong, a weight in his mind, a pressure against him, pushing back. He felt nothing at all. He was completely alone, and it was with a shaky laugh that he allowed his eyes to open and his breaths to pick up.

“I’m alone,” he said. 

Dean sighed with what Sam thought was relief. “That’s good, that’s damn good.”

“Yeah. I feel like an asshole for doubting Cas though.”

“Don’t!” Dean said firmly. “This was too big a thing to take on trust, and Cas hasn’t always been honest with us. It makes sense that you needed to check for yourself. I think Cas is right; this is just your big brain rewiring itself. That’s probably what they saw on the scan. There might be a trace of grace left in you still. We don’t know how long that stuff lasts. But it is _not_ an angel.”

“It’s not,” Sam agreed. “And maybe it is my brain rewiring, but that doesn’t mean I can go on as I am.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t hunt, Dean,” Sam said sadly. “What if I zone out at the wrong moment and someone gets hurt? You can’t rely on me to back you up anymore.”

“No!” Dean leaned forward in his seat and pointed a finger. “You can’t give up. You might zone out, yeah, but that just means I have to keep an eye on you. I’m not letting you… You’re not losing something else. You keep hunting and I’ll make sure I’m with you, watching you.”

“We can’t do that. You could get hurt trying to protect me,” Sam said.

“Or I could get hurt because you’re not there protecting _me._ I will take you, rewiring and zoning out, over every single hunter I know. We’re doing this as a team. I’ll be more careful, and you do the same. I get that you can’t control when you zone out, but you can stay close to me when we’re working.”

Sam looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Dean, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Dean said forcefully. “You’ve just got to have a little faith.”

Sam considered a moment. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of him, least of all Dean, but maybe he was right. He was a good hunter, that was fact, not arrogance, and he and Dean were always safer together than apart. Could he leave Dean to fight alone, risking himself, because he might lose time? Or was he accepting what Dean was saying because it was what he wanted to hear?

He didn’t know the answer, but he knew what he was going to do.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll hunt, but you’ve got to be careful and remember that nothing that bad can happen to me if you’re okay.”

Dean nodded. “Exactly. So I won’t let anything happen to either of us.” He got to his feet. “That’s decided. Come on. Let’s get back to the others. Jack is probably gossiping about our super-secret-conversation right now, and that’ll get Mom and Cas curious.”

Sam stood and grinned as an idea occurred. “We could just tell Mom we were talking about her birthday.”

Dean frowned. “Is that coming up?”

Sam snorted. “Dude, don’t you know when Mom’s birthday is?”

Dean shrugged. “I barely remember when yours is. _Is_ it coming?”

“No, it’s December 5th, but seeing you telling her that’s what we were talking about would have been pretty funny.”

Dean scowled. “Bitch.”

Sam laughed softly. “Jerk.”

Dean stomped away, shoulders stiff, but Sam thought it was an act. Dean wasn’t really pissed. He was probably worried after everything Sam had told him, and Sam felt bad about that, but it was mingled with the intense relief that he knew now he was alone in his own body. He could handle spacing out with Dean’s support, and he could still hunt.

Dean would take care of him. Just as he always did.

xXx

Castiel was concerned, even more than he had been since he discovered Jo. Sam and Dean had disappeared for a long time that afternoon together, and when they’d come back, Sam had seemed buoyant, but Dean stressed, despite his wide smiles and teasing of his brother. For once, Sam’s ability to read his brother had not alerted him to something amiss, and he’d accepted Dean’s laughs and teasing freely.

When the outsiders to the bunker had left in the evening, leaving himself and Jack alone with the Winchesters, they’d spent time talking in the library, exchanging stories. Even the weight of Michael had seemed to lift from them all for a while. Castiel didn’t think it was Michael that was dragging Dean down—he thought it was whatever he’d spoken to Sam about.

Castiel wanted to ask him about it, but he wasn’t sure how.

He was reading a book on the spells the Men of Letters had developed for various means, hoping to find something that would help Sam, but his mind was only half on the task. The rest of his attention was down the hall in the bedrooms where he had a feeling Dean was lying awake.

He heard footsteps, and he looked up, hoping it would be Dean, not Jo that appeared, and he was relieved when he walked into the library. “Hey, Cas,” he said distractedly. “Anyone else around?”

“Jack is here somewhere,” Castiel said. “I think he’s getting something to eat. He doesn’t need as much sleep now his grace is replenishing.”

“No, but he sure eats,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled fondly for a moment and then it faded into a frown as he noted the stress lines on his friend’s brow. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Dean said, “Come with me.”

Castiel closed his book and got to his feet, following Dean out of the library and along the long hall that led to the garage. Dean went to the Impala and leaned against the hood, his arms crossed over his chest and his fingers thrumming.

Castiel had seen him like this before and knew that it meant Dean was close to a breakdown. He grappled for words to say to reassure or comfort without seeming like that was what he was offering, but Dean spoke before he could, his voice strained with tension.

“Sam told me about zoning out and the scans today. He said he thought it was an angel again.” He shook his head. “He looked awful when he said it, Cas, admitting that he thought you’d betrayed him. And I had to sit there, hating myself because that’s exactly what we’re both doing.”

Castiel sighed. “We have to, Dean. It’s the only way to protect him.”

“I get that, I do, but I…” He shook his head. “I almost told him. Lying to him like that, it goes against everything in me, and I nearly said it all. I did something almost as bad. I basically told him to look.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Do you know how dangerous that is? He could have found Jo!”

“I know,” Dean said, his eyes downcast. “He didn’t. She was listening and came out for a minute to give me a helluva reaming out for it, but she hid deep after and he missed her.”

Castiel tried to keep the anger out of his voice but failed. “You could have destroyed everything!”

“I know. I couldn’t help it. He was so damn worried, scared, and I didn’t know what else to do. He feels better now that he’s checked and found nothing.”

“But you risked everything! If Jo had not been paying attention…”

Dean held up a hand. “I get it, Cas, believe me, but I couldn’t see him hurting like that and leave him suffering when there was something I could do to help. It did help. He feels _good_ now. He’s happier than he’s been in a while. He’s still worried about losing time, but the real fear is gone.”

Dean had taken a terrible risk, and Castiel didn’t believe it had been entirely for Sam. He wanted to free himself from this tangled mess of lies. If Sam had found Jo, the lies would have been over, even though it would have come at the cost of his relationship with his brother, or worse, Sam’s ability to really live at all.

“I know that you hate this, Dean. I do, too. But we cannot risk Sam finding out or Jo taking control. You told me Billie said she was dangerous and would leave if she thought it would be better for her. If she thinks we’re risking her hiding place, she could leave him now, or she could take Sam away. Gadreel managed to stuff him into a dream. I don’t think she would be able to do that with Sam as aware of the feeling of being a vessel as he is now, but I can’t be sure. We could lose him.”

Dean bowed his head and said, “I know.”

Castiel pushed down his anger and frustration and said, “We will have to be more careful than ever now. Sam will need to be watched at all times. If Jo looks like she’s going to take over and run, we need to stop her. We cannot let Sam leave the bunker alone.”

Dean looked up. “Yeah, I think that will be easier now Sam told me. He thought he was going to have to give up hunting because he’s been zoning out. I told him he has to keep going and that I’ll protect him. I’ll be able to stay close.”

“We both will,” Castiel said. “Now that Sam has been open with us both, he will be more understanding of our attentiveness.” He considered. “Do you think we should tell Jack and Mary?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No! We can’t. They’ll treat him differently and Sam will know something’s wrong. I won’t trash his relationship with them, too. When he finds out, he’ll know we all lied. He’ll be left with no one he can trust at all. I won’t do that to him.”

Castiel nodded his acquiescence. He didn’t want to take Sam’s family from him either. Dean was so sure that the secret would eventually come out one way or another and that they would lose him. It wasn’t fair on Mary and Jack to make them lie, too.

“This is on you and me,” Dean went on. “We watch him. We watch _her_. And we find some other damn way to save him without her. I hate the idea of losing him if he finds out the truth, but to have him locked in himself, that is even worse. We have to find something.”

“We will,” Castiel said. “I am looking.” 

“Look faster,” Dean said. “After what Billie said and the reaper attack showing Michael’s interest in grabbing Sam, even though Rowena locked the bunker from reapers, I think it’s pretty clear we’re on borrowed time with Sam _and_ Jo.”

“I will,” Castiel vowed. “I still have faith we can all come out of this intact. My grace has replenished. I can wipe Sam’s mind if we find a way to heal him. It doesn’t have to end as badly as you expect.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You really think that?”

“Yes,” Castiel said fervently. “I know you have none left for yourself but share my faith. We can make this work.”

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment and then he said, “Yeah. Okay. I’ll try.” He wiped a hand over his face. “I better crash. I don’t want Sammy seeing me half-asleep tomorrow and worrying.”

Castiel nodded and watched as Dean strode from the room, his footsteps a little lighter now some of the load had been lifted by Castiel’s assurances.

He stayed there a moment longer, letting Dean get ahead of him, and then headed into the library and to his book.

He had to find a way to save Sam before his own thin faith faded. He told Dean he really believed it, and he did, but that certainty wasn’t complete. He had a very real fear that Dean was right, and this was going to end badly for them all. ~~~~


	30. Chapter 30

Sam looked up from his laptop screen as Bobby stomped into the library, his phone pressed to his ear and his expression creased with worry. He’d been back in the bunker only a few weeks since his last hunt with his people, but it sounded like he was heading out again.

“Okay, Jules,” Bobby said, “I’ll be there soon, and I’ll bring as many as I can.” He listened for a moment and then said, “Hole up in the motel until we get there. Don’t do anything stupid thinking it’s brave.” He lowered the phone and tucked it back in his pocket and said, “We’ve got a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“Jules is heading up a group of my people in Oklahoma. They’ve got a smorgasbord of monsters to deal with. I’m on my way now. Anyone here that can come along, I’d be damn grateful. I’m not sure what this is, but it’s not going to be an easy one.”

“Sure, we’ll come,” Dean said, rising to his feet. “What do you have?”     

“So far, I know they’ve got a ghoul, a werewolf, and a rugaru. They also say they have a damn wendigo, but they’re an hour from the nearest decent forest. Place called River Bend.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and a frown. “We’ve been there,” Dean said. “We passed through on the way to a werewolf hunt one time. That’s not wendigo territory.”

“Exactly,” Bobby said. “And that’s just the first weird thing. When was the last time you saw four different monsters all in one small town?”

“We haven’t,” Dean said.

“Closest was the ghoul-wraith tag-team when Eve was around,” Sam said to Dean who nodded. “It’s not her.”

“No,” Dean said confidently. “That bitch is dust thanks to the phoenix ash and whiskey cocktail.”

“And your jugular,” Sam pointed out.

Dean smiled slightly. “Yeah, that too.”

Sam felt eyes on them and he looked up to see Mary, Jack and Bobby watching them looking thoroughly confused. He realized their conversation would have made little sense to any of them but Castiel. He cleared his throat and said, “I have no idea why they’re all gathering this time, but we should definitely check it out.”

He was pleased that he sounded confident as he didn’t feel it. Though Dean wanted him hunting, he was still worried he was going to zone out and get someone hurt.

“We need all we can get,” Bobby said.

“I’m in,” Mary said.

“Me too,” Jack added.

Castiel slammed his book closed and nodded. “I’ll come.”

“And Jules has already put a call into Ketch,” Bobby said. “So there’s enough of us to handle things.”

“Unless…” Mary looked apologetic.

“Unless what?” Bobby asked.

“That many monsters in one place could mean they’re organizing,” Mary said. “And I can only think of one person that would want to organize monsters.”

“Michael,” Dean spat.

Sam closed his eyes and absorbed the possibility. This could be really bad. They weren’t ready for him. They had no weapon that could stop him. They could be delivering themselves to die; handing him Dean as a vessel. Sam didn’t want to think Dean would let him in again, but he knew there were things Michael could do to force him. If it was a choice between his freedom and his family’s life, Sam knew which Dean would choose.

“You still coming?” Bobby asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got to. But if it is Michael, we get out of there if we can.”

“I could—” Jack started, but Dean cut him off with a harsh word. “No!”

Jack’s face fell.

“We’re not sure you’re ready yet, Jack,” Sam said gently. “And we don’t want to set you up to get hurt or worse.”

“You’re not ready,” Dean said firmly. “I told you what Billie said. You can come along, but if it is Michael, you get as many of us out of there as you can. Your wings are working again, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to run away,” Jack said. “This might finally be our chance.”

“No!” Castiel said harshly. “If it is Michael, you get us out of there and back here. We’re not putting you up against him until we _know_ you are ready.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and Sam spoke gently. “I get that you want to do this, Jack, but what if Michael does what Lucifer did and takes your grace? He will be even more dangerous than he is now if he has a powerup. You have to protect the world by protecting yourself.”

Jack sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good, now that you’ve all hugged and kissed, are we ready to go?” Bobby asked impatiently.

“Yes,” Dean said. “Sam, Cas, you’re with me in Baby. Jack, ride with Mom. Where in River Bend are we heading, Bobby?”

“Big Dick’s Inn,” Bobby said, digging the keys to his truck out of his pocket.

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Afraid not. Small town humor.”

Dean groaned. “Let’s just hope to hell the rooms aren’t themed.”

Sam snorted. They’d stayed in some pretty weird places over the years, but he thought a phallus themed room in rural Oklahoma was something he could go without experiencing.

xXx

When they arrived at the motel, Dean checked them into a room and they dumped their bags and freshened up before piling into Bobby’s room with the others. It was crowded as there were twelve of them including five of Bobby’s people, and Dean leaned against the door as Bobby quizzed his people on what they’d seen.

“They were all around the Rawling’s Family Cemetery,” Jules said. “It’s a private place, and since we thought we were going after a ghoul, we started there—looking for disturbed graves. We didn’t get a decent chance to look before we heard something in the woods. We went in and that’s when I saw the wendigo.”

“You actually got a good look at it?” Dean asked, remembering just how fast they could be and how the only good look he’d gotten at one was when he was killing it.

“Yeah,” Jules said. “I recognized it from the hunt we did in Montana. Trust me, I know what I saw. It was my worst hunt.”

Mary nodded sympathetically. “We all have one of them.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance and shrugged. Dean didn’t think he had a ‘worst hunt’. There were nightmares he lived with from things that had happened, but those were things like Sam allowing himself to fall into the cage and the hellhounds coming for him. The regular monsters they took out were the easy parts of life. 

“How did you get away?” Bobby asked gruffly.

“I threw the angel blade,” Jules said. “It went right through it, exploding it into dust.”

Dean’s eyes moved to Castiel who was frowning. “Is that normal, Cas?” He’d only ever heard of fire killing a wendigo, but he knew angel blades were different. They hurt humans the same as any blade would, but they killed demons. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. “I’ve never faced a wendigo before. I suppose it could be.”

“What about the others?” Sam asked. “The werewolf and the rugaru?”

A man Dean thought was called Hayden said, “We didn’t see them in person; we just found the kills in the police records Maggie hacked for us.”

Dean ran a hand over his face. “So, we split up into groups and take a monster each. Take your angel blades with you. Me and Sammy will check out the cemetery for a sign of the ghoul. Mom, what do you want to tackle?”

“I’ll take the rugaru,” Mary said. “I can go by the PD and find out about the body.”

“I’ll stick with you,” Bobby said. “Rugarus can be nasty.”

“You’re not wrong,” one of his people, Will, said with a shudder.

“I will come with you and Sam, Dean,” Castiel said.

Dean was glad he’d offered himself as he would have asked otherwise. Jo needed watching, and therefore Sam, so Castiel had to stay close. If she decided to take off, Dean probably wouldn’t be able to stop her without hurting Sam. Castiel had a chance of overpowering her now his grace was fully replenished.

“That leaves the werewolf for us,” Jules said, gesturing to her friends.

“I will stick with you,” Ketch said.

Jack smiled at Jules. “I’ll come with you, too. I’m not very good at the technical skills and I can’t pretend to be FBI, but I am strong.”

“The strongest,” Dean said, knowing Jack could do with a boost after they’d pulled him off the Michael thing. “If you see anything that makes you think archangel, clear out and call the others straight away,” he added.

“Archangel?” Will asked in a strained voice. “Do you think Michael is here?”

“We don’t know,” Bobby said. “We’ve just got to be careful”

“How careful can we be against _him_?” Jules asked.

Dean saw that her face was pale, as were her friends’. He supposed they were more aware of the threat Michael was to them as it was their world he’d destroyed. He thought they feared him more than even he did.

“Come on, Sammy, Cas,” he said. “We better head out.” He raised a hand to the others. “We’ll all meet back here when we’re done.”

Sam and Castiel followed him out to the Impala and Dean said, “Thank god we’ve got enough angel blades.”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Almost every angel in creation is dead, but we are at least armed.”

Dean sighed as he got in behind the wheel and waited for Sam and Castiel to get in and close their doors. “I get it, Cas, but we’ve already got a plate full of trouble. We’ll take care of Michael and then fix Heaven.”

“As long as it can wait that long,” Castiel said, his voice full of foreboding.

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he started the engine and reversed them out of their spot. He was worried about Heaven, too, and he knew it was personal for Castiel, but Michael was enough to deal with. Add Jo to that and what would happen if she abandoned Sam, it was a nightmare. He couldn’t take on more. 

xXx

It was a short drive to the Rawling’s Family Cemetery on the route Sam had pulled up on his phone, and Dean was soon parking at the side of the road. It was flanked by wrought iron gates that declared the name, and they had to scale them to get onto the long dirt track that led towards plots.

Sam walked at Dean’s side, looking a little distracted, and Castiel walked a few steps behind. Dean knew he was thinking of the fate of Heaven still, and he didn’t try to engage him to pull him out of his thoughts. He was more interested in what was going on with Sam.

“You okay, Sammy?” he asked.

Sam jerked his head around, his eyes distant. “What? Oh. Yeah. Just thinking. I’m no expert, but I don’t think this is Michael.”

“What makes you say that?” Castiel asked.

“It doesn’t feel… bad enough,” Sam said vaguely. “A wendigo that disappears into dust isn’t much of a threat. If it was one of his super-monsters, it would have kept coming and killed Jules outright. Whatever this is, and it’s definitely something weird, is different.” He frowned. “If it wasn’t for the dust thing, I’d say it’s something pretending to be the monsters, like that crazy shapeshifter you and I took that time, Dean.”

Dean snorted. “The one that had a thing for the classic horrors. Yeah, I remember.”

“I remember the lederhosen,” Sam said with a smirk.

“Is that what you call never mentioning it again?” Dean asked.

“It’s been ten years. Give me credit for waiting.”

“Sure,” Dean grumbled. “That makes it all better.”

“Lederhosen?” Castiel asked.

“It’s a long story,” Sam said.

“Which no one needs to hear,” Dean cut in. “Let’s focus on why we’re here.”

He increased his pace along the track, coming to the cemetery. He’d been in more graveyards in his life than he could ever count, but this was nicer than most. It was small and there were neat flowers planted on each grave. The grass was tended, and the walls of the mausoleum were free of moss stains unlike many he’d seen before. There was one grave that looked like it could have been disturbed though, the dirt was turned, and he walked to it, calling Sam and Castiel on.

It was very small, not more than four feet long, and he feared it was a child’s. If he was dealing with ghouls that ate children… Well, he’d faced worse in his life, but this was going to be way up there on the list, and the ghoul was going to die an extra slow and bloody death for it.

“That’s very small,” Sam said, sounding sickened.

“I know,” Dean said darkly. “But it might be—”

“Hey! Who are you?” a voice shouted to them. They spun and saw a man coming towards them with a hoe in his hand and an angry look on his face. “This is private property. You have no right to—”

“Whose grave is this?” Dean cut across him.

The man frowned. “Why that’s the Admiral’s.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t a child at least.

“The Admiral?” Sam asked. 

“He was Mr. Rawling’s Black Russian?”

“I thought that was a cocktail,” Dean said.

“Black Russian Terrier,” Sam muttered.

Dean sighed. A dog. Of course, Sam would know that.

The man nodded. “He died when Mr. Rawlings had his stroke. I think it was a broken heart.”

“And this grave has looked like this ever since?” Castiel asked.

“It’s too early to turf,” the man said, looking insulted. “And the marker is still with the stonemason. Who _are_ you?”

Sam gave him his best ingratiating smile and started, “My name is— Cas!”

Before he could finish what was probably an impressive cover story, Castiel had pressed his fingers to the man’s forehead, making his knees buckle and him collapse to the ground.

“What the hell, Cas?” Sam asked, eyebrows high.

“He was in the way,” Castiel said. “I thought you would want to move fast. We should dig now.”

“You don’t think…” Sam grimaced. “Are we digging up that dog’s grave?” 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t see that we’ve got a choice, Sammy. I get that dogs are your thing, but we need to know if the ghoul has been eating here, and it’s the only grave that could have been disturbed.  Besides, if it has been snacked on, we can avenge it.”

Sam sighed heavily. “Okay. Sure. I’ll get the shovels out of the trunk.”

“I’ll go,” Dean said quickly and then softened his tone at the look in Sam’s eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

Sam nodded and looked away. Dean knew he had probably upset him, not letting him be the one to do it, as Sam would think he was worried about him zoning out. That wasn’t it though. He didn’t want Sam wandering off and Jo taking the opportunity to run off with him. It was okay when they were in the bunker as Castiel could be covert about watching him when Dean wasn’t, and there were always people around, but this was a good opening for Jo to go if she decided to. Dean wasn’t going to give her the chance to do it.

Even though he didn’t know it, Sam was relying on Dean to protect him again.

xXx

Castiel watched as Dean jogged across the grass out of the cemetery and then turned to Sam who was looking at the crypt. He looked a little vague, as if he wasn’t all the way there, but Castiel could tell it wasn’t Jo at the forefront. He could only see Sam’s face.

“Sam,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Sam blinked quickly and looked around. “Yeah. I was just thinking.” He gave a twisted smile. “It’s not what you think?”

“What do I think?” Castiel asked.

“That I was zoning out again,” Sam said. “That’s why you’re here, right? You’re watching me.”

“I am here because you’re my friend and I want to help.”

He was glad of the assumption Sam had made, as for him to consider other options may make him suspicious of Castiel, and though Castiel was sure he had put the idea of being a vessel again to bed, he wasn’t sure what other conclusions he would draw. Sam’s trust mattered to Castiel now more than ever.

“I’m happy you’re here,” Sam said with a sigh. “I don’t think I should be hunting, but it seemed to really matter to Dean. If you’re here, you can keep him safe. Something really weird is going on in this town, even if it isn’t Michael, and I don’t want him getting hurt.”

“I will keep you both safe,” Castiel promised.

Sam smiled. “Thanks, Cas. You really are a good friend.”

Castiel struggled to find words over the roiling emotions he was feeling. Everything he was doing was to protect Sam and Dean, to keep Sam truly alive, and that meant lying and betraying him. He knew he was doing the right thing, but he also knew Sam wouldn’t see it that way. Dean knew Sam better than anyone, and he was certain it was going to destroy everything when he found out. 

Ultimately it didn’t matter what he said as that was the moment the mausoleum door flew open and a man rushed out. Castiel saw him for a moment only before his face changed into a familiar and terrifying—but also wrong—shape. He heard Sam cry out in shock and he tried to step in front of Sam, but before he could, the handle of an angel blade was slamming into the side of his head, casting him into darkness.

xXx

Castiel felt a sharp blow to his cheek and his eyes cracked open and looked up into Dean’s strained face as he bent over him. “What happened?” he asked vaguely.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean growled.

Castiel sat up carefully and looked around. “Isn’t he…” The memories of what had passed rushed at him and he gasped as he scrambled to his feet and looked around. “He was here!”

“And now he’s not,” Dean growled. “So what the hell happened to him?”

“Not Sam. Michael,” Castiel said. “He was here, but…”

“Michael has Sam?” Dean asked reaching for Castiel’s lapels and gripping them tightly. “He took him?”

“Yes. No.” Castiel shook his head to clear it and pushed away Dean’s hands. “It looked like Michael, but it wasn’t. He was in the vessel from the other world.”

“We salted and burned that,” Dean said.

“I know. It wasn’t really Michael. There was no grace. It just looked like him. It was a ghoul. I saw the monster first. He knocked me out.”

He saw that the mausoleum door was wide open and he rushed towards it and entered. The floor was thick with dirt and there were footprints leading to the door, but none returning inside.

Dean rushed in after him and grabbed Castiel’s shoulder. “Where the hell is he?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel moaned.

“Sam!” Dean bellowed. “Sammy!”

Castiel added his voice to Dean’s, calling for his friend, but their words just echoed back to them from the stone walls.

“We need to think,” Castiel said. “And we need help. Call Mary.”

Like a man on autopilot, Dean took out his phone and dialed. After a moment he began to speak. “Sam’s been taken! It was a ghoul, but it looked like Michael.” He listened for a moment and then spoke in a growl. “I don’t know, Mom!”

Castiel tugged the phone from his hand and brought it to his ear. “Mary, we’re at the cemetery on Route 88 north of town. We’ll meet you on the road. Look for the Impala.”

 _“Okay,”_ Mary said weakly. _“Keep an eye on Dean.”_

“I will,” Castiel promised, though he wondered how much good he would be at that. He had been keeping an eye on Sam when he was taken, but he had been no help at all. He’d been knocked out and Sam had been taken. And now Sam and Jo were with the ghoul, and they had no idea where.

And there was worse. If Jo was stronger or faster than Castiel had been, she could get free.

She could take the opportunity to run.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted the wrong chapter earlier today. Thank you TheSlytherinDragon for pointing it out. I've fixed it now I think.

Mary had allowed Bobby to drive them to meet Dean and Castiel as she was wound too tight to be confident behind the wheel. To his credit, Bobby didn’t waste time. He raced them along the roads to Route 88, skidding to a stop beside the Impala when they reached it.

Mary jumped out of the car and ran to Dean who was pacing up and down in front of wrought iron gates while Castiel watched with worried eyes.

She caught Dean on a turn and threw her arms around him. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “We’ll find him.”

Dean stayed tense in her embrace and pulled back after only a moment.

“What exactly happened, Castiel?” she asked.

Castiel drew a slow breath and then said in a rush. “We were in the cemetery. Dean had gone to get the shovels and Sam and I were waiting. We were talking when the mausoleum door flew open and a ghoul ran out. He looked like an old man and then turned into Michael—in the vessel from your world, Bobby. He knocked me out and… I don’t know what happened. When I woke up, Sam was gone.”

“But it wasn’t really Michael,” Bobby said.

“No. There was no grace. A mere seraph could hide themselves from me in a vessel, but an archangel never could. They’re too all-encompassing.”

“So, a ghoul knocked you out?” Bobby asked. “That’s great. I thought angels were tougher than that.”

Castiel flinched. “A blow with the right strength… I’m sorry.”

“It obviously wasn’t a regular ghoul,” Dean said quietly, returning to his pacing. “Ghouls can’t change what they look like on the move like that. They can only change when they’ve eaten, and there’s no way a ghoul could have gotten at the old vessel. There was nothing left to eat.”

“So it was one of Michael’s monsters,” Bobby said. “Is it a new one, does he have a vessel, or is this one he created when he had you, Dean?”

Dean stopped and glared at him. “How would I know? It’s not like I was watching what he was doing when he was in me. I was distracted.”

“Trapped in a dream,” Bobby said doubtfully.

Dean glowered. “Yes!”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Seems a little convenient to me.”

Dean marched forward and got into Bobby’s face. “Been high-jacked by many archangels, Bobby?”

Bobby stepped back and said, “No. But I know Michael. He wasn’t the type to give people the kindness of a dream when he could make them really suffer.”

Dean lurched forward again, and Mary put herself between the two men, her hand on Dean’s chest. She thought Bobby was right that there was more to Dean’s possession than he was saying—he’d put her in a cage and he’d had Zachariah screw with Jack’s mind—but now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Not with Sam missing.  

“This isn’t helping,” she said firmly. “We need to concentrate on getting Sam back.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, stepping back and running a hand over his face. “I don’t know where to start though. There was nothing in the cemetery to show where he went.”

“Then we need to spread the search,” Bobby said. “It was a private place, so who had access?”

“I guess anyone could get in,” Dean said. “We did. And there was a groundskeeper that Cas put out. The family could be there, I guess.  

“So we start with them,” Mary said.

“You do that,” Bobby said. “I’ll put a call in to the others and tell them to stand down. If this is some kind of super-ghoul, the other monsters we’re looking for might be powered-up, too, and there’s more than one of them in town. They can handle themselves, but even we’d struggle with more than one at once. I’ll get them to bunker in at the motel.”

“No,” Mary said firmly. “They can’t go after the monsters, but they can still help. I don’t want them up against this ghoul or any other grace-fueled monster, but they can scout out the town and see if there are any places that look likely for what took Sam to use as a base.” When Bobby looked uncertain, she went on, “They can handle this.”

And it was her son that was in danger. She wasn’t leaving people sitting around a motel when they could be helping.

“I’ll go to the house and see if there’s anything that can help us there,” she said. “They might have seen something helpful.”

“I’m coming,” Dean said.

Castiel nodded and then stopped and his eyes widened as an idea presented itself. “No! We need you, Dean. Sam found you in Duluth with a blood spell Rowena told us about. You have the family connection; we can use your blood.”

“So does Mom,” Dean pointed out.

Castiel looked pained as he said, “I know, but do you think you can be calm to interview possible witnesses for this? I will go with Mary and you can call Rowena for the spell.”

Mary thought Castiel was right. Dean wasn’t handling what had happened well—though neither was she—and if he could be doing something practical to find him, it would help him cope. And she was better with witnesses than Dean.

“I’ve got a good store of ingredients back at the motel,” Bobby said, his tone conciliatory now as he spoke to Dean. “You and I can go there and work the spell. Your mom and Castiel can check out the family.”

Dean drew a deep breath through his nose and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. But if you find _anything_ helpful, you call us first.”

“We will,” Mary promised. “And you do the same.” She hugged him again and said, “It’s going to be okay, Dean. We’re going to find him.”

“I know,” Dean said, but she knew it was a lie from his tone alone.

He went to the Impala and climbed in, starting the engine and pulling away as soon as Bobby was in beside him.

Mary watched them go and then went to her own car and climbed in.

Castiel slid in beside her and said. “It really is going to be okay, Mary. We’ll find him.”

“Do you really believe that, or are you telling me what I want to hear?

Castiel fixed his startlingly blue eyes on her and said, “I am saying what I believe.”

Mary nodded and forced a smile as she started the engine and pulled onto the road.

The house was only a short drive away, connected to the cemetery, and Mary checked the name carved into the stone wall before making the turn through the open gates with mounted lions on the posts and drove up to the house. It was large and impressive, and the cover story she’d been mulling over would work perfectly.

She pulled them to a stop and climbed out, quickly walking to the door. She waited until Castiel was at her side before saying, “Stay quiet and play along, Cas,” and knocking on the door.

It was opened by a middle-aged man that smiled welcomingly and asked, “How may I help you?”

Mary pasted on a smile that felt awkward but apparently looked genuine enough to please the man and said, “Hello, we’re from the Oklahoma Historical Society and we were hoping we could speak to someone about the house and estate.”

The man’s smile grew. “The Historical Society! How exciting. Please, come in.” He stepped back and held open the door as they entered. “I’m Neil and I work for the family. I can tell you a lot about the house and grounds as I am an amateur historian myself. Ms. Sasha isn’t home at the moment, and Mr. Rawlings is indisposed, but I can tell you anything you need to know.”

Mary heard the sound of beeping machines that took her mind irresistibly back to the Duluth hospital and some of the worst moments of her life.

“Is someone ill?” Mary asked. 

“Yes, Mr. Rawlings,” Neil said. “He recently suffered a stroke.”

He gestured to open double doors and Mary caught sight of a man in a bed with various machines surrounding him. He started to lead them along the hall, but Castiel was walking into the room.

“Cas!” Mary hissed.

Castiel ignored her and walked into the room. Mary rushed after him and grabbed his arm, but Castiel pulled free and said, “I’ve seen that man, Mary.”

“You’ve seen him?” Neil asked. “Have you been here before?”

“No,” Castiel said. “He was the ghoul I saw.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “But he’s alive!”

“I’m sorry, a ghoul?” Neil asked. “Is that some sort of shorthand? Or is it code?” He frowned. “Why would you have code?”

“It’s not code, it’s a monster,” Castiel stated. “A monster that can take the shape of the last person it ate.”

Neil gasped. “Ate!”

“Maybe not be _that_ honest, Cas,” Mary said.

Neil looked from Mary to Castiel, his lips parted with shock and his eyes wide. He looked on the verge of speech but the door opened behind them and a woman called, “Neil? Whose car is outside?”

“Ours,” Castiel said as the pretty woman came through the hall to them.

She looked past them at the man on the bed. “What are you doing in here? My father needs rest. You need to leave!”

“We can’t,” Castiel said firmly. “My friend, her son, has been taken by a ghoul that looked like your father, and we need to know how.”

“Neil, show them out,” she said, her voice rising. “Get out now!”

“Yes, Ms. Sasha.” Neil looked awkward as he tried to guide Mary to the door. She stood firm and Castiel pushed the man’s hand away when it reached for him.

Mary was struggling for a way to handle the situation, knowing they couldn’t leave yet, but at that moment a distraction came in the form of another man in dirt-stained overalls running in. His eyes landing on Castiel, he pointed and said, “You! What did you do to me?”

“It’s okay, Jeffrey,” Neil said. “These people are just leaving.”

“No, we’re not,” Castiel growled. “We are staying until we understand how this man’s face was on a ghoul when it took my friend.”

Neil looked uncomfortable. “There’s no such things as monsters.”

“Monsters?” The woman, Sasha, asked.

Castiel sighed and straightened his back. The shadows of tattered wings spread on the wall behind him and he spoke in a fierce growl. “I am an Angel of the Lord. Monsters are real. One of them has my friend, and that man in the bed is the only clue we have, so you can all be quiet and do as we say.”

Sasha opened her purse and pulled out a yellow bottle of pills. She shook one into her palm, frowned, added another and then dry swallowed them. “Monsters,” she said weakly.

Neil seemed even more eager now than he had when he thought they were historians. “An actual angel…” he said wonderingly.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Now, we need to know, has that man left his bed?”

“No,” Sasha said derisively. “He’s in a coma. Has been for weeks.”

Mary looked to Neil and said, “Have you seen anything strange at all? Has there ever been a sign that he’s moved from this bed?”

Neil shook his head jerkily. “No. I am his attendant. I would have known.”

“Then what the hell is it, Cas?” Mary asked.  

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. “But I am going to find out.”

“How?” Mary asked.

Castiel strode deeper into the library and approached the edge of the bed. “I’m going to ask him.”

Before Sasha could do more than snort and say, “That might be a little hard,” Castiel had his hand pressed to the man’s forehead and his eyes closed.

Mary watched, breath held, as Castiel concentrated and then stepped back from the bed and opened his eyes.

“I can only see the surface,” he said looking at Sasha. “You have a complicated relationship with your father. He’s very aware of that right now. He regrets it. He is thinking of it at this moment.”

“Cas!” Mary snapped. “How is this helpful?”

Castiel shook his head jerkily and apologized. “It’s not. I don’t know why the ghoul looked like the man though. He has not been fed on.”

Mary closed her eyes. “Then what the hell do we do?”

Castiel shrugged helplessly and Mary turned away as her phone began to ring. Sending up thanks for the distraction that would save her showing her weakness in front of these strangers, she checked the caller ID then connected the call and said, “Dean?”

 _“We did the spell,”_ Dean said curtly. _“All we know is that he’s somewhere in town. We can’t narrow it down any closer. The damn spell is being blocked somehow.”_

“Okay,” Mary said. “Come to us. We’re at the family estate. It’s not far from the cemetery. Look for lions on the gate posts.”

_“How is coming to you going to help?”_

“There’s something going on here,” she said. “We found the ghoul, or what looks like the ghoul, but the man is in a coma.”

Dean cursed. _“Okay. We’re on our way. Be careful.”_

“We will,” Mary promised and then ended the call.

Neil’s and Sasha’s eyes were on her, Neil’s excited and Sasha’s only mildly interested though her drug haze. Jeffrey was glaring at Castiel. Mary looked from them to the man on the bed and pressed a hand to her head to stave off the tension-fueled headache that was forming. She had no idea what to do next. Dean was on his way and she needed to make it right for him, she was his mother, and an experienced hunter herself, but she felt helpless. She had no idea where Sam was or what this man had to do with the ghoul that had taken him.

She had no idea what to do apart from wait for Dean to come and hope he was better with what felt like impossible puzzles than her.

xXx

Dean was white-knuckling the steering wheel as he powered them toward the Rawlings’ house, his jaw clenched and eyes on the road.

The disappointment that they hadn’t nailed down Sam’s location was angering him. The damn spell was supposed to help them find him, not give them a whole town to search. What the hell use was that? Sam could be anywhere.

Bobby cleared his throat and spoke gruffly over the roar of the engine. “He can’t die, Dean.”

Dean flexed his fingers and said, “You say that like it’s the worst thing that can happen to a person.” Dean knew better. Sometimes death was the best outcome for a person.

“No,” Bobby said. “I know there’s worse that can happen, like losing people you care about, but Sam can’t die if you live.”

Dean scoffed. “I know you lost a lot of people in your world, but it’s not the same. Sam is my brother. Losing him is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I have experienced that more than once.”

“I know exactly how that feels,” Bobby said. “I lost my son.”

In spite of the fact he thought he was already too numbed by stressed to feel anything else, Dean startled and snapped a quick glance at Bobby’s stony face. “You had a son?”

“Your Bobby didn’t?”

“No.”

Bobby sighed. “Then he missed out on a lot of joy and grief.”

Dean thought that their Bobby had suffered plenty of joy and grief for himself, but he didn’t say it. What would be the point? This version of Bobby was already lost in his own memories and pain.

“When the angels made themselves known, we took up arms against them. Armies were formed of volunteers and draftees. Because I was a hunter already, I was given seniority and my own platoon. Daniel was one of mine.” He sighed. “I sent him out on a mission and he never returned. The angels got him, and we never found the body. Way I was raised… I never thought I’d make any kind of father to a kid, but Dan was the best thing in my life, and I lost him.” He fixed his eyes on Dean. “So, yeah, I know pain and grief, and I know what it feels to lose the person that matters most to you in the world. I’m not your Bobby, but it sounds like you had something real special with him. I’m sure if he was here, he’d know the right things to say.”

Dean snorted. “No, probably not. He’d smack me round the head and tell me to work the mission if I want to get him back. But he’d care, too,” he amended.

“I care. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I do. But I learned love can make you weak.”

Dean shook his head. “It can also make you stronger. You’re never stronger or more dangerous than when you’re fighting for something you care about.”

Bobby nodded slowly. “And you’re dangerous right now?”

“Never more. I’m going to find what did this to him and I am going to make it suffer for it. But first…”

“First you need to find him,” Bobby finished for him.

“Yeah.”

And Dean would find a way. He would fix whatever had happened to Sam like he always did, and he would avenge him on what took him, be it monster or something worse.

“There it is,” Bobby said, pointing out of the windshield.

Dean saw it, too, the fancy gates with the posts mounted by lions, and he turned the car and drove up the long track that led to the house. He saw Mary’s car parked outside and he pulled up beside it. He was out of the car before Bobby even had his door open and walking to the front door that was opened by an unfamiliar man who looked first surprised and then ecstatic to see him. Dean pushed away the confusion and brushed past him and his greeting and went into the house calling for his mother.

“In here,” Mary said.

Dean followed her voice into a library where an older man was lying on a bed surrounded by machinery and tubes, one of them feeding blood into his arm. There was another woman he didn’t know slumped in a seat. She looked a little out of it, and Dean saw a yellow bottle of pills on the table beside her.

Mary and Castiel were standing by the bed, and Mary came quickly to him and embraced him before pulling back and touching his face. She didn’t speak to give comfort or give reassurances which Dean was grateful for. They would just have been empty words.

“What’s happening here?” he asked.

“This is the ghoul I saw,” Castiel said, gesturing at the man on the bed. “At least it looks like him.”

“And he’s still alive?”

The woman in the chair looked up and blinked drowsily. “You can’t kill my father,” she said conversationally, her words slowed by the pills she’d no doubt taken. “He’s not the perfect father, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”

“He’s not _the_ ghoul,” Castiel said. “And he’s not been fed on. He just looks like the ghoul.”

The man that had opened the door for him came in and looked excitedly at Dean. “Are you an angel, too?”

“Ah, you gave them the talk,” Bobby said, coming in behind Dean and nodding his satisfaction. “Good. We’re not angels; we’re hunters. We kill monsters.”

The woman in the chair sighed. “Great. I’m either not medicated enough, or I have taken too much. How can monsters be real?”

“It’s not too much of a stretch, Sasha,” the cheerful man said. “There are many legends.”

Dean blocked out their words and looked at the man on the bed. If he wasn’t the ghoul there was some other kind of connection. His eyes roved over the equipment and he frowned. He’d seen a set up like this before, but he couldn’t place where.

It wasn’t the connection to Sam’s hospital room that had caught his attention; it was something else. He couldn’t force his mind to find it though. He was consumed with what he’d heard. He couldn’t clear his thoughts and focus on anything but the fact Sam was missing and the threat that Jo posed if she got free while he was gone.

“Did anyone hear that?” Sasha asked vaguely. 

“Hear what?” the smiling man asked.

Mary nodded. “It was something. I’ll check it out.”

Dean drew a breath through his nose as she slipped from the room and looked at Castiel. “Have you mind-melded with him to see if he knows anything?”

“Yes, but there is nothing of use. He’s aware of his surroundings and dwelling on the fact he’s here alone.”

“He’s not alone,” the man said. “Sasha and I are here.”

“Are we, Neil?” Sasha asked. “Are we really?”

Dean didn’t have time for their existential questions or worries. He was trying to make sense of his thoughts.

Suddenly, a cry of shock came from the hall and Mary ran in, her eyes wide and filled with fear.

Bobby caught her shoulders and held her fast. “What’s wrong? What happened?” she asked.

“Yellow Eyes! I saw him! I was in the hall and he burst through a door and ran at me.”

Dean felt a thrill of fear grip him and he snapped, “Cas, come with me. Mom, Bobby, you stay here. You got your angel blades?”

Mary paled further. “It’s in the car.”

“Mine too,” Dean said. “Cas, stay here. I’ll get them out of the cars

“I’ll come with you,” Mary said.

“No!” Dean said and then softened his tone slightly. “Stay with Cas. No one leave this room.”

Before they could argue, he jogged out of the house to the car and popped the trunk. His blade was there, and he grabbed it then went to Mary’s trunk to get hers and Bobby’s. He rushed back into the house and handed them their blades.

“Come on, Cas,” he said gruffly before leading him into the hall and to the door that was cracked open. There was no sign of Azazel or anyone else, and Dean was sure it was an illusion of some sort that Mary had seen, but he was prepared to kill anyone or any _thing_ that came at him. 

He pulled open the door and saw it led to a staircase curling upwards. He started up, feeling Castiel close at his back. At the top was another door that Dean kicked open and rushed through, prepared to face whatever was inside with Castiel’s blade in his hand.

“Sammy!” he gasped as he saw the scene.

His brother was strung up by the wrists to a hook in the ceiling, and there was a needle in his neck that connected to a tube that led to a bag of blood.

Dean pulled the needle from his neck and Sam’s eyes blinked opened and looked around, his breaths coming fast.

“Easy, Sammy,” Dean said soothingly “You’re okay. I got you. We’re getting you out of here.”

“Where’s Michael?” Sam asked.

“It wasn’t really him,” Dean said as he reached up for the ropes restraining Sam. “Cas, hold him.”

“That’s Jo,” Castiel said.

Dean stepped back and glared at her. “Give me my brother back! Now!”

“No,” she said, her voice wavering. “I’m not going anywhere until this is over.”

From below them came a shout of shock and a thump. Dean was torn. He needed to get Jo down and Sam free, but his mother was down there.

“Keep her here, Cas!” he commanded. “Don’t let her move!”

Castiel nodded and Dean ran out of the room and pounded down the stairs and into the library. Mary and Bobby were unconscious on the floor, a large lump on Mary’s forehead, and the woman Sasha was crumped in her seat, a small wound on her temple. The man, Neil, was standing beside the bed, removing one of the bags of blood.

“You’re _taking_ it,” Dean spat. “You’re a djinn, one of the powered-up versions.”

Neil nodded. “I am, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Michael?”

“Wrong number,” Dean said. “Michael is gone.”

“Ah, it all makes sense now, the things I saw in his head.” The djinn frowned. “Why did Michael leave you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said striding forward. “How are you doing this? Why didn’t Castiel see what you are?”

“Because I am a djinn. Illusions are my passion. It was easy to show the angel what he wanted to see. I showed him the ghoul and then tapped into his mind and saw his fear—Michael. It was easy to give him that. Just like it was easy to give your brother what he feared.” He shivered with what looked like excitement. “He is terrified of Michael.”

“You’re not as good as you thought,” Dean said, taking another step forward. “I know what he’s scared of, and it’s not Michael.”

Sam’s greatest fear was Lucifer. It had been for years. They didn’t talk about it. but Dean knew his brother. Michael was nothing to Sam compared to the monster that had tortured him in the Cage.

“You’re wrong. They are both scared of Michael; him and the angel within. She fears what he will do to her. Your brother fears what he will do to you, taking you away.”

Dean came to an automatic halt as he processed what he was hearing. For Sam to be more scared of Michael than Lucifer meant he really was terrified. 

“Where has Michael gone?” the djinn asked.

“No idea,” Dean said, taking another step forward into the djinn’s space and raising the blade.

“That won’t kill me. I am filled with archangel grace.”

Dean smirked. “Maybe _that_ won’t kill you, but this will.” He swung the blade through the air, its razor-sharp edge slicing through the djinn’s neck and sending its head falling onto the chest of the man on the bed.

Dean stepped back, panting, and then bent to his mother and checked her pulse. It was strong and steady, as was Bobby’s. They were just knocked out and would wake with headaches if Castiel didn’t fix them up first.

He left them lying where they were and went back up the attic where Jo hung stony-faced and Castiel stood beside her with his arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s dead,” Dean said. “That Neil was one of Michael’s djinns. So you can go.”

He fixed his eyes on Jo who nodded and closed her eyes. When they opened, it was Sam’s awareness and his pain that Dean saw. 

He licked his lips and asked, “Where did Michael go?”

“It wasn’t him, Sammy,” Dean said reaching up with the blade and cutting the ropes that held him. Sam slumped forward and Castiel held him steady.

“No,” Sam said. “He was there. He crucified me.”

“It was a djinn,” Dean said.

“But he was talking,” Sam said. “He…” His eyes widened. “He called me Jo. He—” His eyes became distant and then he blinked quickly and looked at Dean. “What happened?” he asked.

“What do you remember?” Castiel asked cautiously, his eyes strained. 

Sam considered for a moment. “I remember the dog’s grave. We were going to dig it up.”

Dean forced a laugh as relief swept through him. Jo had wiped him again. He hated that she was violating his mind, but he was damn glad that she had. Sam had been seconds away from putting the pieces together.

“Sure, you remember the dog,” he said with a smile. “We didn’t dig it up, so you can relax. You were snagged by a djinn before we had a chance.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t remember.”

“Let’s be grateful,” Castiel said, and Dean heard the same relief he felt in Castiel’s voice.

“Cas, Mom and Bobby were knocked out,” Dean said. “Can you fix them up? And Sasha. We’ve got to get the body out, but can you help her, maybe wipe us all from her head, too?”

Of course,” Castiel said, making for the door that led to the stairs.

Dean gripped Sam’s shoulder and said, “You okay to come down, or do you need a little longer to get your feet under you?”

“No,” Sam said distractedly, rubbing his red wrists. “I’m okay. I want to get out of here. Only… Dean, why don’t I remember? Djinn’s don’t wipe memories; they make dreams.”

Dean held back a wince. “Honestly, Sammy, I don’t know. Maybe it took a swing at your head. We’ll get Cas to check it out.”

“Or I lost time again,” Sam said. “A lot of time.”

“Maybe,” Dean said regretfully. “But you’re good now. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Sam followed him down the stairs, and Dean was glad that for a moment he didn’t need to school his face into the calm mask he was forced to present.

Sam was questioning things and he’d seen something of Jo’s nightmare. Sam wasn’t scared of Michael crucifying him; he was scared of him taking Dean. She’d wiped it, but how long could that really last. How long could any of it last?

It felt to him that things were starting to unravel.


	32. Chapter 32

Jo sat on the bed and put her head in her hands. She wasn’t cruel, she really wasn’t, but she couldn’t stay here any longer. She was in danger because of her proximity to Dean Winchester.

She had seen in the nightmare the djinn had created for her what would become of her if Michael found her, and she couldn’t risk that.

As one of only two angels on earth, the only one not openly allied to the Winchesters, she was hot property to him. Soon he would have a vessel—if he didn’t have one already—and then he would be back to creating his monsters. He would want her to help him, she knew. In truth, she had known it for a long time, but she’d thought she was protected where she was. Dean Winchester would die for his brother, as would his mother or Castiel, and she’d thought that was to her benefit, but she saw now that Sam’s life was just too dangerous. If Dean had not persuaded him to keep hunting, if she could have stayed in the bunker with its enhanced protections following the reaper’s attack, she would have been safer.

Because of Dean, Sam was going to fling himself into more and more hunts, and there was a risk of Michael finding her with every one. She had no idea how the connection between him and his creations worked, but if he saw Sam and discovered she was there, too, it would be over for her.

She did want to help Sam, but it was too difficult. It would take years to heal him, if she ever could, and she would be trapped and in danger all that time. And she couldn’t leave Sam behind. As bad as it would be to doom the man to the existence he would have without her—she couldn’t call it a life—the more pressing need was her own. Sam was a strong vessel. She knew he would be able to hold her grace well since he had been strong enough to hold Lucifer, and if she was going on the run, that was what she needed. She couldn’t go back to her old vessel as Michael knew that one, and finding a new one that was willing and able to hold her would take time. She had to go, and she had to take Sam with her. 

She wasn’t dooming anyone with this choice. Dean Winchester and his family would still find a way to stop Michael, even without Sam, and she would be free. Perhaps then, if Castiel found some other way to save him, she could return Sam to them. If not… well, at least with her Sam wasn’t living the nightmare of being trapped in his body. She would create a dream for him that would be a million times kinder than the one the djinn had created for her.

She’d never slept before and therefore never dreamed, but she’d never imagined how real they could be. She had felt every slice of Michael’s sword, had felt it as he drove blades into her hands and feet to pin her to the cross. She could not allow that dream to become a reality. She had to go.

She raised her head and got to her feet. She had already dressed Sam and put on his boots ready to leave; all she needed now was money. She couldn’t take his credit cards as they would be able to track her doing that. She knew he had some cash stored here for emergencies, and that was what she would take.

She went to the drawer and took out the balled-up pair of brightly colored socks. They were a pair Dean had bought him as a joke, and Sam had used them to store his money, always with a fond smile whenever he thought of it.

She unrolled them and took out the bills. There was a few hundred dollars, and that would be enough to start with. She would get more. She couldn’t heal people to earn it as that would draw attention to her, but she could steal as well as any human thief. 

She took one last look around the room and then slipped out of the door and closed it gently behind her.

She had waited until the dead of night when the only people she would need to get past were Castiel and Jack. She hoped Jack would not be there as she couldn’t hide herself from him or overpower him as she could Castiel. All she would be able to do was hope that the confusion of her unknown presence in Sam would distract Jack and allow her to make her escape.

She walked along the halls and into the library. As she’d expected, Castiel was there, studying a book at one of the tables, but Jack was nowhere in sight. Pleased, she formed her face into a smile and said, “Hello, Castiel.”

Castiel didn’t look surprised or even angry to see her in control again which surprised her. That surprise was the first clue that should have alerted her to what was coming but it passed her by.

“Hello, Jo,” he said mildly. “Are you okay?”

Jo shrugged, the perfect show of calm. “I need some air. I thought I would go outside and look at the stars for a while. Sam is not fighting me at all, so I can get him back into bed without him realizing I was here at all.”

Castiel nodded. “I imagine you do need space after what the djinn did to you.”

Jo grimaced. “It was awful.”

“I remember dreams,” Castiel said. “They can be difficult to manage.” He stood. “I think I will come with you. I haven’t been out under the stars like that for a while.”

Jo smiled and walked a little deeper into the room. Castiel fell into step at her side and Jo braced herself to strike.

“You know, I am very grateful for what you’re doing for Sam,” he said. “So is Dean. I know it’s difficult for you to be trapped the way you are, and we don’t always show our appreciation well, but you are doing a good thing for us.”

Jo felt an unexpected pang of guilt. She thought she’d steeled herself against these feelings, but she had apparently failed.

She stopped and looked at Castiel who was a step ahead of her. “Thank you, Castiel,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

Castiel smiled slightly. “I think you really do, and I think you really are trying to help, but I can’t let you do this.”

Jo realized her mistake a moment too late, and she drew her blade, but Castiel was a more seasoned fighter and his reflexes were better. He had drawn his blade and was bringing up the handle to strike her.

She held up her hands, “Castiel! What are you—”

Before she could finish Castiel had slammed the handle into her head, sending her into unconsciousness for the second time in her eternal life.

xXx

Dean was lying awake on his bed, waiting. He had been waiting for hours, longer really. Perhaps he had been waiting since the moment he found out about Jo.

When they’d gotten back to the bunker, Sam had gone straight to eat to replace the meals he’d missed on the road and in his captivity, and Dean and Castiel had slipped away to the now-empty dungeon to talk. Dean had barely said more than, “Cas, we need to be ready…” before Castiel was cutting in, saying, “She’s going to try to take him soon.”

They knew they had two choices; to trap her now at the cost of Sam’s freedom and possibly the ability to live properly, or to wait and let him have as long as they could and step in only when it was time. Ultimately, there was no choice to be made. They both wanted Sam for as long as they could have him. If Jo discovered what they were going to do, she would flee and Sam would be ruined. They had to catch her off guard and then speak to Sam himself.

They had the vaguest of plans—a hateful plan—that Sam would be able to hold her down long enough for them to persuade him to take their next course of action, though that would take much persuasion of Sam and more than a little pleading.

He heard fast footsteps in the hall and he quickly sat up and swung his legs around the bed. It was time.

Castiel came in without knocking and his stony face told Dean he was right, that it had happened.

“I have her,” Castiel said.

Dean nodded and got to his feet. “And Sammy?”

“She’s unconscious still and there is no sign of him. I think I knocked them both out. We have to be fast though. She can’t leave him with the cuffs on her, but there are other things she can do.”

“Like hurt him?” Dean swallowed hard. “Tear him apart the way Gadreel threatened.”

Castiel nodded and strode from the room. Dean hurried out after him, walking at his side through the halls to the dungeon. Castiel went in and Dean took a slow breath in hopes of calming himself before following.

Jo was bound to the same chair they had kept Crowley in all those years ago. There were ropes around her and the angel warded handcuffs on her wrists. She was still unconscious, her chin resting against her chest, and there was a small trickle of blood that had flowed down from her hairline—Sam’s hairline. 

“Are you ready for me to wake her up?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded stiffly. “Let’s get this done.

Castiel went to her and rested a hand on her forehead. Her eyes opened and her head jerked up as Castiel moved back to Dean’s side.

She looked from face to face and said, “I guess this counts as a success for you.”

“No,” Dean said brutally. “This is what we call a betrayal. You were supposed to help him, and you tried to take off.”

“I _was_ helping him,” she said. “I tried anyway. You had him as he was for a long time thanks to me. I had to put myself first though.” She rattled her hands in the cuffs. “This is a mistake.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Trusting you was our mistake. This is putting it right.”

“I was _helping_!”

“You were hiding,” Castiel said. “And now you’re trapped.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So, what are you going to do? Leave me trapped here forever?”

“No,” Dean said. “We’re going to fix Sam.”

“You can’t,” she said. “Castiel isn’t strong enough. It would take an archangel’s grace to repair this damage.”

“I can’t heal him completely,” Castiel said. “But I can do what you’re doing. Sam can cast you out and I can take his place.”

She laughed harshly. “Do you really think he’ll allow that to happen? You know as well as I do that Sam would rather die than be a vessel again.”

“He let you in,” Dean spat.

She smirked. “He did, but you don’t have my skill or collateral.”

“He’ll do it to save himself,” Dean said.

She shook her head slowly. “He really won’t. The situation is different now. He won’t be tricked.”

Castiel took a step forward, hands fisting. “What did you tell him to make him let you in?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s for me to know.”

“Enough,” Dean said harshly. “We need to speak to Sam.”

“How are you going to do that?” Jo asked. “I’m not giving up control for you.”

“We don’t need you to give it,” Dean said. “We’re taking it. Our buddy Kevin found something on the angel tablet that can help.” He took Castiel’s outstretched blade and cut across his palm, making the blood flow, and then daubed it on the wall into the shape of the sigil he’d studied that evening for this very purpose.

When it was done, he fisted his hand to draw more blood and then slapped it on the sigil on the wall. The blood lit up and then Dean heard a gasp.

He forced himself to look at Sam as his eyes roved the room and settled on the ropes and cuffs on his wrists.  

“What happened?” he asked, his voice weak and then his expression crumpled into lines of pain. “What did I do? Who…” He swallowed hard. “Who did I hurt?”

Dean closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Sam was scared, so scared and in pain, and Dean knew it was only just starting. He was going to need to tell him the truth now, and that was going to destroy everything.

He’d thought he’d prepared himself for this, to lose his brother, but as he met Sam’s wet eyes and said, “You’ve done nothing wrong, Sammy,” he felt a shard of ice pierce his heart.

It was all over now.

xXx

Sam watched as Dean drew a deep breath, and his heart clenched painfully. Whatever Sam had done, whatever had happened, Dean didn’t want to tell him. That meant it was really bad.

Who had been hurt when he zoned out? Who had _he_ hurt?

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice pained.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

Something bad had to have happened. He was tied up in the dungeon. They wouldn’t do it for any other reason than to protect themselves and others. What had his screwed-up brain made him do? And was this the first time it had happened or was this just the last time they could bear?

They’d both been different with him, strange, and he’d noticed them sticking close all the time. He’d thought that was because they wanted to protect him when he zoned out, protect others, but what if it had been worse? What if it was because they were preparing themselves to do this, to lock him down to stop him?

“None of this is your fault, Sam,” Castiel said solemnly.

“What’s not my fault?” Sam asked. “What did I do?”

Dean raised his hands and Sam saw they were shaking. “We’ll explain everything, I promise, but you need to make us a promise first.”

“What?” Sam asked. He would promise anything if they would just explain what had happened. He needed to know who and what he had cost them. 

“Promise that you won’t do _anything_ until we’ve finished,” Dean said. “You have to listen and wait. Don’t make any decisions until you’re heard it all. We’re going to fix it, I swear.”

“I promise,” Sam said quickly. “Just tell me.”

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look laden with meaning and then Dean turned to Sam and said, “There’s an angel in you, Sam. It’s Jo.”

Sam’s eyes widened so much that they stung. It all made sudden and horrifying sense. The fact they’d lied to him, tricked him, didn’t occur to him in that moment. He had only one concern, “What did she do? Who’s dead?”

“No one, I swear,” Dean said. “Everyone is fine. You don’t need to worry. This isn’t like Gadreel.”

Sam stared into Dean’s eyes, searching for a lie, and saw only pain and tears welling at the corners. Sam believed him. No one was dead, no one had been hurt because of him.

The fear he’d felt dissolved and became pain. They had betrayed him. Castiel had sworn to him there was no angel, and Dean had encouraged him to check for himself. Had that been some kind of prearranged thing between him and Jo to throw him off the scent? He had known something was wrong, and they’d let him believe it was the brain damage.

Every time he’d lost himself, the times he’d found himself with them, they had been talking to her, plotting and planning maybe. All of them betraying him. And how did she get into him in the first place? How had they, how _could_ they, trick him again?

“Why would you do this to me?” he asked. “After Gadreel… I would have been better off dead than this.”

“It wasn’t us,” Castiel said. “We didn’t know she was there until later. Look inside, find the memories, you will see.”

Sam closed his eyes and delved into his mind. He felt the pressure against him, Jo pushing back, and he forced it away and looked for her in his memories. There she was, facing him in a dim room and the words she spoke were just as horrifying in a memory as they would be in person, _“What matters is Dean and the world … Michael has him.”_

She had told him exactly what he’d needed to hear to persuade him to let her in.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“Weeks, since we got back here from Duluth,” Castiel said. “Dean not as much. He found out after we came back from Sioux Falls.”

That was only a few weeks ago, but still too long. So many conversations between now and then that he’d had with Dean and not once had he even hinted at the truth.

“Does everyone know?”

“No!” Dean said quickly. “It’s just me and Cas.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have cast her out,” Castiel said.

Sam huffed a harsh laughed. “Like I won’t now?”

He reached inside himself, searching for the pressure again so that he could find it and rip it out of himself, but Dean was on him, gripping his shoulders tight and shouting, “No! Not yet! You promised to wait.”

Sam withdrew from himself and nodded. He had promised that, he knew, and if he still owed them anything, it was a chance to explain properly.

“We have a plan,” Dean said. “You can’t live without her yet.”

“I can’t die, Dean,” Sam said pointedly.

“No, but there’s life and there’s living,” Castiel said. “The damage done to your body is extensive, your mind is almost destroyed. Without an angel powering you, you will be a ruined man. You won’t be able to function at all.”

“Nothing, Sammy,” Dean said. “You’ll be back in a coma. You probably won’t even be able to breathe on your own.”

Sam absorbed the words, pushed them down, and nodded. “But I will be me.”

Dean sucked in a breath. “You can’t let it end like that, Sam. It’s not living. You’ll just be existing. You can’t do that to us.”

“To you!” Sam growled. “What about what you’ve done to me?”

“There’s another way,” Castiel said quickly. “I can’t heal you as I am, the damage is too much, but I can keep you going from the inside. It will enable you to live as you have been, and you know you can trust me to hurt no one. I will let you stay in control at all times.”

The idea of being a vessel for anyone was abhorrent, but for Castiel, it was worse as it would come at a price. Sam would be functioning, yes, but they would be without one of their strongest fighters for the battle against Michael. They needed Castiel. They didn’t need Sam. If it was a choice between the cause losing Castiel or him being comatose and useless, he knew which he would choose.

“No!” he said. “And you can’t trick me. I won’t do it.”

“We never would,” Castiel said sadly. “But, Sam, without an angel in you, it will all be over.”

“You can’t do that to us, Sammy,” Dean said. “I know you hate me because of this, and I get it, but think of Mom and Jack. Don’t make them lose you. It almost broke Mom after Michael. Don’t put her through that again.”

Sam knew there was no other choice though. He couldn’t let Jo take control of him and hurt people he cared about, people he didn’t know even. He wouldn’t let his body be used for murder again.

 _“I won’t murder anyone,”_ Jo’s voice spoke in his mind. _“I will protect you, Sam. You can’t do that to them again. You let me in to save Dean. Would you really abandon him now?”_

“Shut up!” Sam snapped.

Dean and Castiel, who had been watching silently, frowned.

“I’m not letting you in, Cas, so you can either find something else or I’m kicking her out.”

Dean looked at Castiel imploringly. “Cas, man, there’s got to be something! Can’t you heal him just enough so we can keep him as he is?”

Castiel frowned at Sam, giving him the feeling that he was being x-rayed.

“No,” Castiel said. “There’s too much…”

_“Look, Sam.”_

Sam’s mind filled with the dimly lit room where he’d spoken to Jo again. He saw himself pummeling the wall in an attempt to free himself, the muffled voices he could hear calling to him.

_“That’s what will happen if you kick me out. And you will be no good to Dean. Michael is still out there. You’re a warrior, and together, you save the world. Would you sacrifice the world just for your own peace of mind?”_

“There’s something,” Castiel said, drawing Sam’s attention back to the dungeon again. “But it comes at a cost.”

Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What cost?”

“The sigil,” Castiel said, pointing at the wall where a burning shape was slowly dimming. “I can use that on you. It’s powered by blood. I can carve it into your living heart. Jo would be trapped inside, unable to come to the forefront anymore, but she would still strengthen you.”

 _“I won’t heal,”_ Jo said snidely.

“Keep her in me forever?” Sam asked, feeling nauseated.

“Not forever,” Dean said quickly. “Just until we find another way to heal you. We’re already looking.”

“I can take it away when you’re ready and you can expel her,” Castiel said.

Sam considered. The idea of Jo being there for any longer than she already had been was horrifying, but he didn’t want to go back to being trapped inside himself. He didn’t want to leave his family behind, and he wanted to be there to help when Michael was stopped.

Ultimately, there was no real choice.

“Okay. I’ll do it. But only long enough to do what I need to do. When I say, the minute I say, you take it off and let me kick her out.”

“But you might not be ready,” Dean said.

“I don’t care. If I’m not healed, you can’t try to stop me. This is my choice to make as and when I want to. Do you agree?”

“Yes,” Castiel said solemnly.

“Dean?” Sam prompted.

Tears began to trickle down Dean’s cheeks and Sam tried to keep his expression neutral, though it was the last thing he wanted to do when his brother was in pain.

“Okay,” Dean said, his voice wrecked. “When you say, when you’re ready, we’ll let you…”

“You’ll let me go?” Sam prompted.

Dean nodded.

Sam sucked in a breath. “Do it then, Cas, before I change my mind.”

“It’s going to hurt,” Castiel said.

“Never doubted it,” Sam said with a forced smile.

Castiel pulled the ropes away from him and laid a hand directly over his heart. Sam felt a searing pain that he thought was probably how a heart attack felt, and then Castiel stepped back and Sam was panting.

“She’s trapped,” Castiel said.

“So am I,” Sam said. “Get these damn cuffs off of me.”

Castiel took a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs around Sam’s wrists and then removed the last of the ropes around his stomach. Sam stood up and rubbed his still aching chest.

“Thanks,” he muttered, making for the door.

 _“You’re going to regret this, Sam,”_ Jo warned, and Sam winced. She was trapped but apparently, she could still make herself heard.

As he passed Dean, his brother reached out and caught Sam’s arm. “I’m sorry, Sammy,” he said in a choked voice.

“I know,” Sam said neutrally. “You were trying to help me. I might have done the same. But this…” He shook his head. “What happened here should have happened weeks ago. I would have made the same choice then that I made now. You let me think I was damaged for weeks, scared each time I lost myself.” He huffed a laugh. “I guess I am damaged. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you both lied to me and didn’t trust me to know the right thing to do.”

“We were scared, Sam,” Castiel said quietly.

Sam pulled his arm free of Dean and looked from face to face. “I get that. It doesn’t change anything though.” He took a breath to calm himself, to stop him from hurling his anger at them. “I should have been told.”

Turning away from their stricken faces, he walked out of the dungeon and back to his bedroom with only the voice in his head for company.

_“I think they feel suitably awful now. How about you? Feeling good?”_

“Shut up,” Sam said.

_“Sure, I’ll do that.”_

Sam’s hands clenched and he pressed a thumb hard against the scar on his hand that had been his savior when Lucifer was in his head. It didn’t work this time because this wasn’t a hallucination. Jo was real, she was in his head, and from the soft laughter he heard, she wasn’t shutting up soon.  


	33. Chapter 33

When Dean woke, he was filled with a sense of foreboding that he didn’t immediately understand. It was like there was a heavy weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He got out of bed and was halfway across the room, catching sight of his pale face in the mirror when he remembered: Sam knew the truth.

His breath rushed out of him as if he’d been punched and he closed his eyes. The memories of the night that had passed rushed at him, making him feel sick.

He’d always known it would come out eventually, but it had still been hell.

Sam had handled it better than he had any right to expect. He’d not thrown punches or taken off straight away. Dean and Castiel had spent another hour in the library after Sam left the dungeon, neither saying it but both of them wanting to be there to have a chance at persuading Sam to stay if he decided to take off alone, but there had been no sign of Sam. When they’d gone to his room to check, Castiel had listened at the door and said he was sleeping.

Dean had gone to his own bed then and lain awake for hours. He thought Castiel might have had some influence on his falling asleep in the end as it had been after his last visit to check on Dean that he’d lost track of time. He was awake now, though, and he had to face his brother, to see the hate and accusation in his eyes again.

He grabbed clean clothes and went to the bathroom to clean up. It was empty, and he was able to rush through his morning routine without having to talk, to pretend.

When he was done, he dropped his laundry off in his room and made his way to the kitchen. There were signs of people having already eaten, and when he checked the clock over the stove, he saw that he’d slept later than he’d thought. He wondered if Sam would see that as him hiding.

He poured coffee and decided to skip breakfast, not sure if his roiling stomach would be able to handle food. He drank it leaning against the counter and then put the dirty cup in the sink and made his way back through to the library. Unexpectedly, it was empty, and he was on the point of going looking for others when he heard the voices approaching and a moment later Mary and Jack appeared.

“Dean,” Mary said. “It’s late. Are you okay?” She scrutinized him closely. “You look pale. Do you feel ill?”

The concern, the basic love in her voice and face made him feel awful as it meant she didn’t know. Sam hadn’t shared his and Castiel’s betrayal with her. Dean was sure it wasn’t to spare them their judgment; Sam just didn’t want them searching for the angel when they looked at him. He felt guiltily grateful for it. He didn’t want them to know what he had done. He wasn’t sure they would understand why he’d lied. 

“I’m fine,” Dean said. “Just had a rough night. Where is everyone?”

“Bobby isn’t back from Oklahoma yet, and Castiel is in the file room. I’m not sure what he’s doing though. He’s been a little shifty this morning. Do you know what that’s about?”

“No,” Dean lied, assuming Castiel was looking for something to heal Sam. “Where’s Sammy?”

“Here,” Sam said, striding up the stairs from the war room and clearing his throat. “I was getting something to eat.”

Dean knew that was a lie as he’d just come from the empty kitchen, but he had no right to question Sam about anything. He hoped that Sam would keep to his careful diet, though he would now know Jo could probably smooth any complications—if she chose. None of them knew whether she would continue to try to help Sam now that she was trapped inside.

“Rowena called,” Sam went on. “She and Charlie are taking off again—Vegas this time. They’ll both come back if they’re needed, but they said they’d rather they weren’t needed. They plan to party.” He looked at Dean. “You okay? You look kinda rough”

Dean’s jaw dropped with shock, and it took a supreme effort to snap it closed again. Sam was acting like he was fine. The carefully restrained anger of the night before was gone; he seemed like Sammy again. There was no way he’d forgiven Dean what he’d done, but he wasn’t showing how he felt. Dean assumed it was because they weren’t alone. He didn’t want anyone asking questions about what was wrong between them.

There was no way he wasn’t angry still. Dean would be if it was him. He would have struggled to stick around for more time than it took to rage at Sam and Castiel for their betrayal. And last time… it had taken Dean’s own death for Sam to forgive. That couldn’t solve it this time. If he died, Sam did, too. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just had a bad night.”

Sam nodded slowly, clearly knowing the reason behind it and showing no sympathy.

Dean decided to test the depth of this act, to see if maybe Sam would give him a chance alone to apologize again and try to make it right.

“You got a minute, Sammy? There’s something I want to show you in the range.”

“Maybe later,” Sam said. “I’ve got to check in with Nick.”

Without another word, he took his phone from his pocket and wandered away along the hall.

Dean felt a pang that Sam would rather talk to Nick, the closest remaining person to the monster that had tortured Sam and almost ended the world, than him, but he supposed he deserved it. Nick wasn’t the one that had betrayed Sam.

“Is he okay?” Mary asked when his footsteps had faded. “He seems… different today.”

“Yeah, he’s just a little stressed,” Dean said, marveling at the understatement.

“What’s he stressed about?” Jack asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “The djinn. The super-monsters. Michael. There’s a lot going on.”

Unexpectedly, Jack smiled widely. “Michael.”

“What about him?” Dean asked.

“I think I’m ready for him,” Jack said. “I feel the way I did before, when I had all my own grace and power. I think it’s time to start looking for him properly.”

“Jack…” Mary started, her voice soft.

“No, I really am,” Jack said.

“But we can’t be sure, and we’re not pitting you against him until we are. You could get killed or your grace could be taken again.”

Jack frowned. “I beat him last time. I would have killed him if I’d kept going. I have my grace now. I’m not useless anymore. Isn’t it worth the risk to stop him?”

Dean pointed a finger at him. “You were never _useless,_ Jack. And no. We’re not sacrificing you. Sam was almost killed going after him. I’m not letting anyone else near him until we’re sure they can handle it.”

“How can we ever be completely sure though?” Mary asked.

Dean considered. The only way he could think to find out was to ask Billie.

“I have tried everything I could before except one thing,” Jack said. “The hardest thing, other than facing Michael, was opening that rift. I need to do that again.”

Dean shook his head slowly, “No, Jack. You said you were groping around in the dark to do that before. We have no idea where the rift you open will end up. We’d be risking Godzilla ending up here, or Michael’s army of crazy angels. The last thing he needs is backup.”

“But they weren’t all bad places,” Jack said. “I saw some with Kaia that looked beautiful.”

“No. If you can’t aim, you’re not doing it.”

Jack smiled smugly. “Then we find a way to aim. I need a dreamwalker. If I have one, I can open a rift to one of the good worlds.”

Dean considered. It seemed like a good idea, as long as Jack really could aim properly, and it would be a good test of strength, and he could back it up with Billie’s opinion, too.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll find you a dreamwalker and you can open a door to paradise. We’ll all take a vacation and then come home rested and deal with Michael.”

Jack grinned. “Okay. I’ll find one. What about the woman that killed Kaia? If they’re the same person, she should be able to guide me.”

“She won’t help,” Mary said confidently. “She wanted nothing to do with us. She’s got her own problems.”

“Mom’s right. But you found two last time, so they can’t be that hard to track down. And we’ll all help.” Dean smiled, feeling reassured, and then he tensed again as Sam came back, tucking his phone back in his pocket.  

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“We’re going to find a dreamwalker to help me open a rift,” Jack said happily.

Sam frowned. “Are we shoving Michael through it?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “That’s a damn good idea. We can find somewhere extra nasty and send him there.”

“Somewhere without people,” Mary said. “He can’t be allowed to destroy another world.”

Dean nodded eagerly. “Yeah. There’s got to be loads of places. We didn’t see anyone apart from Kaia’s killer and Godzilla in The Bad Place. We can stick him there. That’s it. If we can’t find a way to kill him, we’re doing that.”

“How are we getting him through though?” Sam asked.

“We’ll find a way,” Mary said confidently, and Dean could tell she was as infected by Jack’s excitement as he was.

 Sam considered a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Makes sense.”

Dean grinned. They had a workable plan now. They could deal with Michael and then focus on their other problems, like saving Heaven and healing Sam—getting Jo out of him and starting to make things right between them again. That might be impossible, but Dean had to try.

He needed his brother back properly, healed and happy, not hating him for what he did, not pretending that everything was fine for the sake of others. He wanted Sam to be his brother again.

xXx

Sam cupped his hands under the faucet to collect the cool water and then brought them up to scrub at his face. He had been crying, and he wanted no sign of it left for anyone else to see. He rubbed his eyes and cheeks, washing away the tears that had fallen, and then turned off the faucet and patted his face dry with a towel.

He hated the tears as they were a show of his weakness, but they came at inopportune moments and overpowered him. He’d felt them coming when he was faced with Dean for the first time since the dungeon, and he’d had to leave with the excuse to call Nick before they fell. It was the second time that day they’d come, and both times he’d had to escape to let them fall.

They weren’t tears of sadness; they were tears of helpless anger. It wasn’t what had happened to him, the people that had lied and not trusted him to do the right thing; it was what he could feel inside him, the angel, that was getting to him, making his anger surge and his tears fall.

He threw the towel down into the basin and turned away, freezing as he caught sight of the glow in his eyes in his reflection and the strange smile that he knew was not mirrored on his face.

He gripped the sides of the basin and squeezed his eyes closed.

“I’m not going anywhere until we talk,” Jo said.

Sam looked into the mirror again, his own face stiff with anger but the reflection smiling.

“You’re not in control,” he said, a reassurance to himself. “It’s not possible.”

“No,” she agreed. “It’s not. But I wanted to talk to you, and I thought this was the only way we could be face-to-face. It’s all in your head really.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Sam growled. “I’ve already heard enough from you.”

She had been whispering to him on and off all day. The only time she truly stopped and listened was when Dean and Jack had been sharing their plan to stop Michael. Then she had been attentive and quiet, focused wholly on what they were saying as that was what impacted her, too.

“Well I want to talk to you,” she said. “And I’m not stopping until you listen to me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and his reflection scowled. “I had Lucifer in my head for months and I didn’t break. You have no chance.”

“I’m not trying to break you. I’m actually trying to help. And you _would_ have broken then had Castiel not saved you. I know that you know that. It’s your head that showed me exactly what happened.”

Sam hated the reminder of what had happened then and what was happening now. He hated it all. It wasn’t just his body that had been violated by Jo, that was still being violated, it was his mind, too. She could see and feel everything he felt and experienced, and she was using it against him.

“What do you want, Jo?” he asked.  

“I want to talk about Dean and Castiel.”

Sam frowned. “What about them?”

His reflection’s eyes became intense. “Don’t hate them.”

“I don’t,” Sam said automatically.

“No? I know that’s what you want to believe, but I also know what you really feel. Put yourself in their position, Sam. They thought they were going to lose you. And they weren’t the ones that did this to you.”

“No,” Sam growled. “That was you. You tricked me into letting you in, and you were the one that made me think I was losing my mind when I kept losing time. You made me think I was damaged.”

“You are damaged. You can’t see it, but I can clearly. Without me, you would be nothing but a vegetable. I saved you. I was trying to help, just like Dean and Castiel were. They would have lost you forever, and Dean would have needed to die to make things right for you! How long do you think that would have taken? How much longer could he have gone on knowing that he was the one trapping you inside yourself? He would have killed himself to let you go.”

“Dean would _never_ do that,” Sam said angrily.

“No? Like you wouldn’t? You killed yourself taking Lucifer into the Cage.”

“That was different! That was to save the world!”

“And to repay a debt to your brother,” she said calmly. “I know why you did it. You were saving the world, and that helped, but it was also for Dean. You had to repair what you did to him, and that was the only way he would accept. You died to save him. Do you really think he wouldn’t do the same for you? He made the deal for you after all.”

Sam closed his eyes, hating that it was the truth. It would have cost Dean’s life, and that would have been a tragedy.

“Don’t hate them,” she said again. “They were scared and didn’t have a choice.”

“They had a choice!” Sam snapped, his eyes flying open and fixing on the sad face in the mirror. “If they’d been honest with me, given me the same option to lock you in earlier, I would have done it.”

“Perhaps. Neither of us are sure of that.”

She was right. Sam couldn’t be sure he would have done it, not deep down. This, feeling and hearing Jo inside, was a kind of nightmare to him. Though he knew she couldn’t hurt anyone now, not even him physically, there were things she could do, and he hated it. Even feeling her pushing against him made him want to scream.

“I hate the situation,” he said. “But I don’t hate them. I hate you.”

Jo sighed. “It was self-preservation. I was scared of Michael, and I did want to help. Have you never done something stupid to survive? Or done something you thought you had to do only to find yourself living with regret?”

Sam winced as he thought of Lester Morris. He had used the man to attract a demon, and he hadn’t been able to stop him making that deal. He was dead and in Hell because of Sam. He had done it in an attempt to get his brother back, but it had still been an awful thing to do.

“You can understand why I had to do it, right?” she wheedled. “So you have to let the hatred go, and the anger.”

“Like it’s that easy?” Sam snorted. “You might be the one with insider access to my thoughts and feelings, but you don’t know everything. Now get the hell out of my head.”

With a force like a punch, he shoved against the pressure in his mind and his reflection became his own again. He was alone.

He didn’t hate his brother or Castiel. He was just angry at the situation. He couldn’t hate them as that would mean it was over. Whatever it was between them, whatever made them family, would be broken and Sam couldn’t let that happen.

His anger was for Jo and the situation. His hatred was for her alone. To allow it to be anything else was to tear away a vital part of himself and to never be able to get it back.


	34. Chapter 34

**_Chapter Thirty-Four_ **

 

Dean was in the garage polishing the Impala when Sam wandered in with his iPad in his hands.

He looked up. “Hey, Sammy. You okay?”

He hated the awkward note to his voice, too solicitous, as it wasn’t natural for them. They didn’t talk to each other like this. They teased and moaned and argued more than they comforted or questioned politely.

If Sam heard it, he didn’t react. He just turned his tablet so Dean could see the screen and said, “I’ve found us a case.”

“A case?” Dean said dumbly.

In the week since Sam found out about Jo, he hadn’t mentioned hunting at all. Mary had joined Bobby and his people for a vampire hunt that turned out to be regular monsters, not Michael’s cross breeds, but Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack had stayed at the bunker, trying to find a dream walker and attempting to get Billie’s attention. There was one sure way to talk to her, to summon and bind her the way they had with the original Death when Castiel was souped-up with souls, but they didn’t want to risk pissing her off unless they had no other choice. They were just hoping she or Jessica would answer their pleas at some point.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “There’s been some ‘extreme head trauma’ in Texas.”

“That’s a long drive,” Dean said.

Sam frowned. “We’ve gone further for less. Are you worried Cas’ sigil is going to fail and I’ll be too far from the dungeon?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No! I just meant… nothing.”

Dean was confident Jo was well and truly trapped by the sigil, and Sam would hold her if it somehow failed. What he was thinking was that it was a long time for them to be on the road together without Sam being able to escape him as he did regularly now.

Dean hated the idea, but he knew his brother well and he had a feeling Sam’s sudden exits were because he was crying. Sam tried to hide it, but his eyes were often red when he came back. Sam wasn’t much of a crier, which meant this thing with Jo was wrecking him even more than Dean had imagined.

Though, honestly, he’d not thought much about what it would mean for Sam when he’d decided not to tell him the truth. He’d focused on what it meant for him when Sam took off, when it broke the bond between them. He’d been selfish but he saw now that it would be some kind of nightmare for Sam to live with.

“We can take Cas,” Sam suggested. “He can knock her out again.”

“It’s not that, Sam,” Dean said, a hint of his frustration in his voice now. “I know she can’t get free again.”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, she’s good and trapped.”

There seemed to be something he wasn’t saying still, but Dean didn’t feel he had the right to ask what it was.

“We’ll take Cas along to back us both up,” Dean said. “I’ll go get him now.”

He set the chamois cloth back in the bucket of wax and rags and stowed it back in the corner of the garage and then walked back through into the library where Castiel and Jack were.

Jack was practicing his powers again, a now common pastime, by creating balls of light in his hands and floating them on the air, drawing them to him and pushing them away. Dean knew from experience that if he stood to close to one of those energy balls the hair on the back of his neck would stand on end and he would feel a buzz in the back of his mind.

Sam and Dean stood and watched a moment, and then Jack clicked his fingers and the ball disappeared.

“We’ve got a case,” Sam said before Jack could do more than smile at them and Castiel could give Sam a cautious look. “It’s in Houston. You up for it, Cas?”

“Of course. Whatever you need,” Castiel said, his voice also more solicitous than it would usually have been. Though they’d not spoken about it, Dean suspected he was struggling to be normal with Sam the same way he was.

“Do you want me to come?” Jack asked, then rushed on when Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Maggie is searching for dream walkers for me, and I can practice in Houston as well as I can here. I’ve not been on the road with you all for a while. I miss it, and you.”

It was an instance of Jack’s unabashed honesty. He never felt the need to hide how he felt about them and what they did. Jack would never have been able to hide the truth from Sam the way they had.

“Sure,” Sam said. “I’ll grab my stuff and we can head out. Someone should call Mom and tell her what’s happening.”

“I’ll do it,” Castiel said. “I don’t need to collect anything to take. I have my blade.”

Sam nodded. “See you at the car then.”

He strode and away and after shooting Dean a grin, Jack followed. Dean thought Jack coming along was actually a good thing. It would simplify the hunt and he would keep conversation going when he and Castiel struggled with Sam.

The kid was going to be vital on the twelve-hour drive ahead of them.

xXx

The drive was better than Dean had expected. Sam had been quieter than usual, and he’d taken his turns at the wheel without comment, but the atmosphere wasn’t tense. When he did speak, he seemed to be normal—the way he used to be, as if things _were_ normal. Dean tried to let himself hope that they were going to be again.

He booked them two rooms in the Sunset Inn, one for Jack to sleep and Castiel to lurk, and the other for him and Sam to share. The place looked normal from the outside, so it was even more shocking when he let them into his and Sam’s room and took in the startling sunset-themed décor. The wallpaper was vivid orange and the drapes and bedspread were bright red. The ceiling and linoleum floor were yellow and the lamps beside the beds were shaped like suns.

“Well, shit,” he said. “This is a migraine waiting to happen.”

Sam smirked. “We’ve slept in worse. It’s clean.”

“How can you tell?” Dean asked. “My eyes are still adjusting.”

Jack dropped down onto one of the beds and bounced up and down twice. “I like it. It’s happy.”

“It’s awful, Jack,” Dean said.

Jack shrugged. “I hope mine’s like this.”

Sam laughed softly and Dean and Castiel exchanged a startled glance. Dean could tell Castiel was just as surprised by the change in Sam. It was if getting out of the bunker had changed him, freed him from the weight of what had been happening. Maybe that was it, he could have just needed to be on the road, distracted, to feel good again.

“We passed Cawker on the way out of Kansas,” Dean said with a grin. “We’ll make a stop on the way home so we can see the world’s biggest ball of twine.”

Sam laughed again. “Like the first two times weren’t enough for you.”

“Actually, it was three for me,” Dean said. “I took a trip there while you were at Stanford.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Date wanted something special,” Dean said. 

“And a ball of twine is special?” Castiel asked.

“To Dean, yeah, it is,” Sam said.

Sam took out his laptop while Dean checked the bathroom—which was yellow and red but clean—and booted it up. Dean was on the point of suggesting food—they’d stopped on the road, but Sam should eat again soon—but Sam looked up and said, “There’s a new body on the PD file, and they’ve got a ME report.”

Dean looked over Sam’s shoulder and saw the picture of a man’s face turned away and a hole in the back of his head. “Another kitsune, you think?”

Sam considered and then shook his head. “The placement isn’t quite right. I think it’s more likely a wraith.”

Dean groaned. “Awesome. As long as we don’t have to check-in again. My crazy-game isn’t what it used to be.”

“Crazy game?” Jack asked.

Dean plunked down in the chair opposite Sam and said, “Me and Sammy went after a wraith one time in a mental hospital. We had to get ourselves checked in—”

“Which is surprisingly easy when you tell the truth,” Sam interjected.

Dean nodded. “Exactly. But we ended up really crazy when the wraith got its hands on us.”

“What was is like?” Jack asked.

“Like you’d think,” Dean said.

“Angry,” Sam said, then winced as if struck by a sudden pain. “We should go by the morgue and check the bodies first. We’ve got to be sure it’s a wraith before we start tracking it. It will narrow down the possibilities.”

Dean clapped his hands together once. “Awesome. Me and you can do that, Sammy. Jack and Cas can scout the town, see if there’s good eating. I’ll get the suits out of the car.”

Sam nodded and closed the laptop.

Dean pulled the Impala keys from his pocket and went outside and to the trunk where their suits lay in their dry-cleaning bags. He hooked the hangers on his finger and then slammed the trunk and went back to the door.

He stopped with his hand on the wood and allowed himself a moment. Things in that room were good. Sam seemed happy. It was relaxed. So what was making him feel like it was all going to crash down around him soon? The truth was out now, he had nothing left to hide, but something still felt wrong. The smile on his face felt forced.

Sam _seemed_ okay, but Dean thought getting him away from Jack—who he had to pretend for—was going to be the real test.

xXx

Sam was sitting back in his seat, listening to the familiar music Dean had belting out of the stereo and trying to ignore the muttering voice in his mind.

Jo was chatty again. She’d been mostly quiet on the drive, and Sam had slept a good portion of it when he wasn’t taking a turn at the wheel, but now he was with Dean alone, she was talking again, pointing out the things Sam was trying not to see.

_“Do you think he could hold the steering wheel tighter without breaking something?”_

Sam didn’t speak but he shoved against her in his mind, trying to force her down. She was resisting though, and all he achieved was a sharp pain in his temple.

_“Say something to him, Sam. It’s you that’s got him like this. You can ease things for him.”_

But Sam already had. He’d been faking it in the motel, playing along and acting happy. What more did she want from him?

_“Maybe a better acting job. You convinced him for all of a second, but you saw his tension when he came back from the car just as clearly as I did. You’re not the only one acting. He’s doing it for you. Who are you doing it for?”_

Sam was doing it for them all. He didn’t want Jack seeing the tension and he didn’t want to make things harder for Dean and Castiel. Just because he couldn’t convince Dean, it didn’t make it his fault. He wasn’t the one in the wrong here.

_“Ah, so you’re admitting that you hate him now?”_

Sam didn’t hate him, he couldn’t. 

_“Then help him!”_

Sam looked at his brother, taking in the tight set of his jaw and his white knuckles, and sighed. “Relax, Dean.”

Dean started. “Huh?”

“Relax,” Sam said again.

“I’m driving my baby with you riding shotgun. That’s the definition of relaxing.”

 _“Sure. I’m convinced,”_ Jo said snidely.

“You’re not,” Sam said. “What’s going on? Is this still about Jo?”

Dean shot him a quick look, his eyebrows high. “What else would it be?”

“Michael?” Sam said. “The thing that actually matters. Jo is locked down. She can’t hurt anyone. And you’re not hiding anything anymore. There’s nothing but Michael for you to worry about.”

Dean snorted. “Sammy, I know you don’t believe that.”

“I do,” Sam said seriously. “Look… what you did, hiding it from me, was wrong, but I can’t swear I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your position. You were scared. I get that. I’ve thought a lot about it since—” thanks to Jo in his head, he’d been forced to think about it a lot “—and I understand it.”

“You forgive me?” Dean said hopefully.

Sam shrugged. “Sure. If that what you need, I forgive you. I don’t see it like that though. What you did was wrong, but you did it for the right reasons. And it’s not like with Gadreel. You didn’t _put_ her in me. You just hid that she was there, and you were trying to protect me. You didn’t want me ending up a vegetable.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, Okay.”

“So can we just let it go and go back to how we were?” Sam asked. “This Jo thing is going to come to a head again sooner or later, but let’s not live on the edge until it does.”

“You mean when you have Cas wipe the sigil and kick her out?” Dean said, a muscle twitching in his jaw.”

“Yes. But it’s not time for that, so let’s just try to forget it until then.”

Dean looked pained but he nodded. “Sure. Okay.”

_“That was good, Sam. And doesn’t it feel better?”_

Sam shoved at her, feeling the pain in his temple, but didn’t even try to respond. If he engaged with her, she was going to get worse, and he already heard enough from her.

He didn’t believe she really cared about his relationship with Dean and Castiel. She was manipulating him, or at least trying to. Sam had dealt with bigger, badder and smarter manipulators than her before, and he wasn’t going to be fooled again. 

xXx

When they got to the hospital, Dean took the lead through the halls and down the stairs to the morgue, and Sam was a step behind him. He was feeling better now after what Sam said, finally hopeful that it really could work out, and when he reached the morgue, he stopped with his hand on the door and said, “Friendly or jerk?”

Sam considered for a moment, his fingers drumming his leg, and said, “Friendly. We had a jerk last time. Ten bucks.”

Dean grinned. “I’ll take the bet.” He pushed open the door and approached the sandy-haired kid at the small desk who had a textbook open in front of him and a bottle of water.

Dean took out his badge and Sam copied him, saying, “We’re here to see the Baker and Rowland bodies.”

The kid’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, uh… I’m not supposed to go in there without Doctor Broughton’s say-so. And I can’t let anyone in.”

“Look, kid,” Dean started.

“Finn,” the kid said. “I’m an intern so I can’t really…”

“You’re an intern coroner?” Dean asked, shooting Sam a surprised look which was met with a quirk of the lips and slight nod.

“Oh, no,” Finn said. “I’m going to be a gynecologist. Doctor Broughton is letting me study basic anatomy and he’s writing letters for my med school applications.”

“Nice job,” Dean muttered and then raised his voice. “Where is Doctor Broughton?”

“He went to lunch.”

“Then you have two choices. You can call him back from what I am sure is a long-overdue break, or you can show us the bodies yourself. We don’t _need_ the doctor, see. Agent Plant here used to be a doctor before he joined the bureau.”

Finn’s face brightened. “You’re a doctor? What kind?”

“Proctologist,” Sam said dryly. “Can we get in there now, please.”

Finn bit his lip. “I don’t know…”

“We’re not touching them,” Sam said, a touch of impatience in his voice now. “We just want to do an external examination. You don’t even need to come in. Just give us the files and we’ll handle the rest.”

“Or we can arrest you for obstruction of justice,” Dean said. 

Finn lifted his textbook, checked the folders beneath and pulled out two of them and handed them to Sam. “These are the files. The Rowland body is in the cooler, but Baker is still being examined. You might have trouble doing an external when his internals are all…”

“External?” Dean suggested.

“Yeah.”

Sam nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll make do with what we get.” He tapped the files against his leg and pushed open the double doors that led into the chilly morgue.  Dean looked around and grimaced. He could see why the doctor didn’t want people in here without him—he was a damn pig. There was an uncovered body on a stainless-steel table with an open y-shaped incision from chest to groin, and plastic tubs with various red shapes inside on a trolley beside it with an empty coffee cup. The skull had been opened and brain removed.

“Shame we’re not real feds,” Dean said. “I’d like to bust this asshole for something. What the hell kind of person treats the dead like this?”

“Yep,” Sam agreed. “I owe you ten bucks. This guy is more than a jerk. He’s a damn animal. Let’s get done and out of here. I don’t want to actually meet the man. I might have to punch him.”

“I’ll be swinging right there with you,” Dean said. “He did us one solid though.”

“What’s that?”

“The brain isn’t in there, so we don’t need to crack the skull to check for wraith.” He looked at the packaged parts and said. “It’s got to be in one of these.”

“Or it’s in soak,” Sam said. “Or… Dammit.” He pointed to the scales where a shrunken husk of a brain was sitting. “It’s here.”

“That’s been sucked dry, all right,” Dean said.

“Definitely,” Sam said. “It’s less than a quarter of its usual weight, too. There’s no fluid left inside.”

Dean frowned. “You know how much a brain should weigh?”

Sam nodded distractedly, wandering to the fridges at the back on the room. “Yeah. About three pounds.”

“The fact you know that both disturbs and impresses me,” Dean said.

Sam huffed a laugh. “It probably won’t come up on Jeopardy, but it’s something I learned once and never shook loose.”

He checked the file in his hand and then opened one of the fridges and drew out the rolling tray bearing a body. This was at least covered with a sheet, so Dean felt no additional anger towards the coroner for his vile standards. But when Sam pulled back the sheet, he saw that the stitches that held the head together were jagged and obvious—a horror for any family that wanted to see their loved one in an open casket without a hat.

Sam shook his head disgustedly and opened the file. “This one’s brain was sucked dry, too. It’s definitely a wraith.”  

“Good, we know what we’re killing,” Dean said. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got to get to the PD next and find out what they know.”

Sam checked the entry point on the back on the man’s neck and then nodded. “Yeah.” He pushed the tray back and closed the door then dropped the files down onto the table. “I’m done.”

They started to the doors, both reaching them as they were opened and a heavy man with a grey beard appeared, a mustard stain on his white coat. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Norris Broughton. I hear you’re with the FBI. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you. Finn should have called me. I would have been able to help.”

“We saw enough,” Dean said curtly pushing past him and going into the anteroom. He turned back and saw that Sam was still standing stiffly, the conflict between whether or not to slug the man clear in his eyes. “Agent,” Dean said pointedly.

Sam nodded and took a step forward, but the doctor, seemingly obvious to Sam’s tension, grabbed his hand and pumped it up and down in an energetic handshake.

“Take my card,” he said, pulling a business card from his pocket and slapping it into Sam’s hand. “I can help you if you have any other questions.”

Sam balled his hand into a fist and dropped the crumpled card onto the floor then walked out to where Dean waited.

Dean tugged him toward the door and then turned and pointed back at the doctor. “You are a terrible person.”

The doctor laughed. “But an excellent doctor, right?”

“No,” Dean said. “You’re an even worse doctor.” He looked at Finn who was watching the scene with wide eyes. “Kid, get away from him as soon as you can and forget anything he might have taught you.”

Finn nodded slowly. “Sure… Okay.”

“Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean drew a deep breath and nodded. He felt a little better about what he’d seen now that he’d said his piece, and he hoped that the cops they were going to have to deal with next were better than the doctor they were leaving.

Dean wasn’t sure he could deal with more assholes taking down what had been a good upswing of a day with Sam’s forgiveness.

xXx

Sam was feeling better when they reached the PD. Dean had handled the coroner without bloodshed, as much as he deserved it, and they had a clear target for their hunt. They just needed to know the who and where.

They showed their badges at the front desk and, after a quick call was made, were led to an office at the back of the room with Chief stenciled into the frosted glass.

Dean knocked and, at the called invitation, opened the door. Sam followed him into the small room with a heavy grey desk and framed newspaper articles and certificates on the wall. The man behind the desk stood to greet them and held up an ink stained hand to indicate why they couldn’t shake.

“It’s my damn Waterman,” he said apologetically.

Dean frowned. “Your what?”

“It’s a fountain pen,” Sam said, taking the seat he was being gestured into with an inky finger.

“You’re just full of the interesting information today, aren’t you?” Dean said with a grin, sitting beside him.

The Chief wiped his hands on a Kleenex and then shrugged and tossed it into the trash. “It’s the wife’s idea,” he said. “She thinks it gives me an air of seniority, sets me apart. I think it sets me apart as a jackass that can’t hold a pen without breaking it, but there you go.” He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Geoff Gosling. Don’t call me Goose. I shed that name back in college. And you’re Agents…”

“Page and Plant,” Sam said as they both held up their badges. “We’re here about the Baker and Rowland deaths.”

“Yeah,” the chief said. “Those wounds… Crazy, right? We’re waiting on the full autopsy reports to come in from Norris still.”

“We were just there,” Sam interjected.

“You met Norris?” he said cheerfully. “Hell of a guy, right? He’s in my bowling league.”

“Hell is the right word,” Dean muttered and Sam kicked his shin lightly.

“We’re lucky to have him,” the chief said. “He used to be on rotation with a few other hospitals in the area, so we’d sometimes go a week or so before an autopsy could be done, but he’s based here now fulltime.”

“That’s great,” Sam said with a forced smile. “It must be a relief to have the help at hand. Now, I wondered if you could tell us anything about the victims: their lives, any similarities between them apart from the method of death, anything that you think might help.”

The chief rubbed his chin with an inky finger, leaving a smudge that he seemed oblivious of. “Well, only similarity I can think of is that they’re both from the Mongoose Versus Cobra.”

“The what?” Sam asked blankly.

Dean coughed a laugh. “Name like that, it’s got to be a bar.”

The chief nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s where most of the cops and doctors in town hang out. We play poker in the backroom.”

“I didn’t think poker was legal in bars in Texas,” Sam said.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Again with the information,” he muttered.

Sam shrugged. It was an article he’d read once about illegal gambling and it had stuck in his head the way song lyrics stuck in Dean’s.

“It’s a grey area,” the chief said idly.

Sam glanced at Dean, an eyebrow raised. He thought this was the most relaxed cop he’d ever met.

Was it something to do with the town? The doctor was the worst Sam had ever seen at his job in regard to respect, and the police chief was happy to play semi-legal poker in bars with his buddies.

“Okay,” Dean said. “And these victims played poker with you?” 

“They played a few hands, yeah,” he said. “Actually, yeah, the last time I saw both of them alive was when we were in the Mongoose. We were talking about Fletcher Rowland’s death with Graham Baker the night before his body was found. Didn’t occur to me until now.”

“And were there any new faces in the bar that night?” Sam asked. “Or anyone new in town that you’ve noticed?”

“Not that I’ve noticed, but there’s got to be, right? I know most everyone in this town and there’s no one I’d believe is a murderer. We’ve always had the usual number of deaths and disappearances, no more than anywhere else, but these bodies are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Sam frowned. “And was there any pattern before then?”

“To the other deaths? Let me think…” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “I guess there was the wait between the deaths and the autopsies. We always seemed to need to wait a while for Norris’ time to come back around. That was always bad luck. But otherwise, no. They were just the usual things you see in any American town.”

Sam considered. He would like to know more about how many deaths and disappearances this man thought was normal. A town this small, he thought it would be hardly any that didn’t come with clear cause. He was on the point of asking for more when Dean turned to look at him and Sam saw his eyes flare with grace.

He froze, even his heart stilled.

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked.

Despite the familiarity of the words, Sam saw the twist to Dean’s features that was all Michael, the way he’d looked at Sam when he’d faced him in Duluth. Sam’s hands crept to his gun, and Michael’s eyes widened, or were they Dean’s eyes now?

Sam frowned. That wasn’t right. What did Michael have to fear from a gun. He looked closer at Dean and saw the face was all his brother again.

“Is something wrong, Agent?” the chief asked.  

Sam got to his feet shakily and muttered, “I need air.”

He started toward the door, feeling Jo stir in his mind, _“What’s going on?”_ she asked. 

Sam withdrew into himself and whispered, _“Michael.”_

He felt her jolt of shock. _“Where?”_

_“In Dean.”_

He felt her pushing against him, struggling to come to the fore, and then she stopped. _“That’s not Michael.”_

_“I saw him.”_

_“No, you didn’t. I would sense him. I would see him. Michael isn’t like me. He could never hide himself from me or any seraph. He’s too powerful to be contained.”_

“Sam?” Dean prompted.

Sam looked back at him, his features all Dean again, and said, “I’ll be outside,” before fleeing. He weaved through the desks in the main room of the PD and outside into the cool late-afternoon air.

His mind was reeling. He had seen the grace, but the angel inside him was saying it wasn’t him. Would she really know or was she trying to trick him? She might want Michael to help her get free, or she might be more invested in him winning now to punish Sam.

He didn’t know.

He leaned against the Impala and took a breath, fisting his clammy hands. It wasn’t Michael, it couldn’t be, but then why did Sam see him?

 _“Wait,”_ a voice whispered to him, _“Watch. Be sure.”_

The voice wasn’t Jo’s, it was his own, and the advice felt right, he would listen, watch and wait. If it was Michael again… _“I have a plan,”_ the voice assured him.

Sam nodded. He had a plan. Sam just had to wait.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I can do this. Watch. Wait.”

 _“What the hell are you talking about, Sam?”_ Jo asked.

With a supreme effort, Sam pushed her down and silenced her. He didn’t need to hear her anymore. Now… well, now he had his own voice to guide him.


	35. Chapter 35

Dean still knew there were questions he needed to ask the chief, but he couldn’t think of a single one after Sam left. He made his own quick excuses and followed him out, leaving the bewildered chief sitting behind his desk and trying to clean the ink off his hands.

Sam was leaning against the Impala, his eyes distant as he stared across the parking lot, and he didn’t seem to notice Dean until his hand was on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He sucked in a breath and jolted.

“Sorry,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “You okay?”

Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment as if seeing something more than just his brother standing in front of him, and then he nodded and said, “Yeah. Later.”

“Later what?” Dean asked.

Sam was silent for a moment and then he rubbed a hand over his forehead and said, “Nothing. What’s next?”

“Food, I think,” Dean said, calculating how long it had been since Sam ate last and figuring it had been long enough for him to be feeling a little screwy. He should have thought of it sooner. “We’ll go pick Cas and Jack up and then find somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Sam said vaguely. “Sure.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dean couldn’t help but compare the man he had been only a matter of minutes ago, sharing random knowledge and the relaxed way they’d been talking together, with the way he was now—strange and closed off.

“I’m fine,” Sam said curtly. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m handling it.”

“Handling what?” A horrible thought occurred to him. “Is it Jo? Is she giving you trouble?”

Sam tilted his head to the side. “Yeah. That’s it. Jo.”

“What’s she doing?” Dean asked.

“She’s just there.”

Without another word, he pulled open the door and got into the car, slamming it closed behind him and staring at Dean expectantly through the windshield. Dean took the hint, got in, and started the engine.

He drove them back to the motel and climbed out, leaving Sam sitting in the car. He peered back through the window and said, “Shall we go out and find somewhere or shall I bring something in?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Pizza?” When Dean grimaced, he said, “I didn’t think so. Let’s find somewhere.”

He got out and waited, leaning against the car as Dean went to Jack and Castiel’s room and knocked. The door was opened by Jack who beamed at him and said, “Did you find the wraith?”

Dean smiled in spite of himself. “No, Jack. It usually takes a little more than a trip to the morgue and a chat with the police chief. We need to stop to eat though.” He glanced back over his shoulder and then gave Jack a pointed look. “It’s _time_.”

Understanding dawned in Jack’s eyes and he said, “Yes. It is.”

Castiel came to stand behind Jack and said, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. We’re just hungry.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell either of them about the change in Sam from before to now, and there was no way he could think of to do it without Sam hearing. And he couldn’t mention what Sam had said about Jo in front of Jack. He would speak to him when they were alone.

Jack reached inside to grab his jacket and then came out and greeted Sam whose eyes widened slightly and then he nodded and murmured a greeting.

“Where do you want to eat?” Castiel asked.

“That diner place down the street,” Dean said.

He thought a diner would have something more appropriate for Sam’s diet than the bar a little further down. Though they would have to find the Mongoose and Cobra after to see if they could learn anything else about their victims. Maybe he could persuade Sam to head back to the motel and crash while he and Castiel looked into it. Though perhaps it was better Sam stay close until Dean knew exactly what Jo was doing to him. She couldn’t take off on them, trapped down as she was, but he had a feeling she would still know how to cause trouble for them.

She had already shown that.

xXx

After a meal that was eaten in an awkward atmosphere with Sam looking pointedly down at his plate long after his small portion of brisket and mashed potatoes was eaten, they followed the waitress’ directions to the Mongoose and Cobra which was a few blocks away from their motel. The place was busy and Dean made straight for a table and then took ­­his seat, waiting for the others to join him before saying, “We’re doing this as FBI again, so me and Sammy will take the lead.”

“If you’re FBI, who are we going to be?” Jack asked. “I’m too young.”

“Only two, right,” Dean said with a forced smile.

Jack nodded seriously. “Yes.”

“I don’t think anyone will ask, but if they do, Cas is an agent and you’re doing a work-study thing, Jack.”

Jack smiled. “I like that.”

A waitress wearing a mid-thigh skirt and black vest came to their table bearing a tray. “What can I get you guys?”

“Three beers, please, whatever you’ve got on tap,” Dean said. “And… Sammy?”

Sam looked up quickly, his attention not all the way with them, and said, “Uh, whatever you want.”

Dean frowned. Sam knew he couldn’t have alcohol, and he didn’t think it was a lack of care for his condition that was driving Sam now. Dean thought he was just not paying attention.

“A ginger ale, please,” he said, and the waitress nodded and weaved her way to the bar, the tray held high.

Sam fixed his eyes on Dean for a moment then his eyes drifted to Castiel and Jack before he ducked his head again and looked down at his clasped hands.

Dean watched him for a moment and then said, “Cas, come with me a minute,” and rose to his feet, leading him to the bar.

“What are we doing?” Castiel asked. “We just ordered drinks.”

Dean fixed intense eyes on him and asked, “Can you see Jo?”

Castiel frowned. “In Sam?”

“I don’t mean in the bar, Cas,” Dean said impatiently.

Castiel looked back at Sam and then said, “No. She’s down deep. If she was at the forefront, Jack would be able to see her.”

“Then something is going on. Sam was doing good when we were out before, working the case and laughing, but when we were at the PD, he just switched. He told me it was something about Jo, but not what. Can she be doing things to him still?”

“I suppose so,” Castiel said thoughtfully. “What we did has never been tested before. We couldn’t drive her down all the way; it was more that we brought Sam to the front. I imagine she can make herself heard, though she cannot control his body.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open as that horrifying thought settled over him. If she was talking to Sam… Was it Lucifer all over again? Was she talking to him even now?

He looked back at their table and saw Jack chatting animatedly while Sam looked vague.

“What do we do?” he asked.

“I don’t think there is anything we can do, Dean. She is the price of Sam’s current condition. She is as trapped as we can make her.” He sighed as Dean’s hands fisted. “I hate this, too, but we’re already living our best-case scenario. And we don’t know for how long.”

Dean knew what he was saying. Sam could decide he’d had enough at any moment and force them to keep their deal and have Castiel remove the sigil, freeing Jo and cursing him. Dean thought she would give them long enough to stop Michael, but after that, all bets were off.

He turned to the bartender that was passing and said, “Whiskey.”

The man raised an eyebrow at Dean’s curt tone, but when Dean set down a twenty-dollar bill and said, “You can keep the change,” he quickly fetched the drink and snagged the bill. He started away and Castiel elbowed Dean. “We need information, Dean.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” He called after the bartender who conceded to stop and listen, his fingers drumming the bar. His eyes widened slightly as Dean showed him his badge and said, “We’re investigating the Baker and Rowland deaths, and we have a few questions if you’ve got a minute.”

The man considered and then sighed. “Sure. Okay. What do you want to know?”

“They were regulars here,” Dean said and he nodded. “How soon before their deaths did you see them?”

“They were both in here the nights before they were found. They are… _were_ friends.”

“And was there anything about their behavior that seemed strange before their deaths?”

He frowned. “I thought they were murdered.”

“They were, but we’re trying to get an account of their last activities. Did you notice anything strange at all? Were there newcomers that they were seen with? Did they leave with anyone?”

“No one new, no, but they were a little different. Fletcher especially. He was always a talker, but the night he died he was here with me and he was acting a little off, talking about weird things.”

“Weird how?” Dean asked.

“He was paranoid, saying he knew his wife was cheating with their au pair. But he didn’t seem upset. He was more angry about it which wasn’t like him. He was a really chilled guy. But… Hey, you don’t think it was the wife that did it, do you?”

“No,” Dean said soothingly. “She’s been investigated. It was any newcomers that I was more interested in.”

“What about the other victim?” Castiel asked. “Was he paranoid, too?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Graham wasn’t a talker. He seemed off, too, not really relaxed the way he usually was here, but he didn’t say anything weird to me. He just took his drinks into the back for his game and said goodnight on the way out, but kinda distracted; like he had something on his mind.”

“Okay, thanks,” Dean said. “That’s really helpful.”

He started away and the bartender called him back, “Hey, Agent!” Dean turned and frowned as the man slid his twenty-dollars back over the bar and said, “I don’t think taking a tip that big from a Federal Agent is doing me any favors. You just enjoy your evening.”

Dean thanked him and took back the bill then he and Castiel went back to their table where Jack was sitting alone. “Where did Sammy go?” he asked.

“Restroom,” Jack said. 

Dean nodded and made for the door a little along the long room that declared itself _Restrooms._ He went in and through to the men’s room, calling Sam’s name.

Sam was standing by the sink, his hands braced on the porcelain and his eyes fixed on his reflection with a look of intense concentration. Dean grabbed his arm and then jerked back as Sam’s tensed muscles clenched and he spun around.

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Dean asked. “What’s she doing?”

“Who?”

“Jo!” Dean said impatiently. “Is she talking?”

Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

Dean closed his eye briefly and then fixed them on his brother. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I know this is all my fault.”

Sam frowned. “You didn’t do it to me. You just didn’t tell me she was there.”

“No, I mean for what happened before. If you hadn’t been hurt, you wouldn’t have needed an angel at all. That was down to me. I was the one holding the blade. I was the one that didn’t stop it.”

Sam stared into his eyes and nodded slowly. “Yes. It was you.”

Dean was shocked that Sam was agreeing, but he was also pleased. If Sam was accepting what he had done, he would also maybe accept an apology for it. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I know it’s too late for that, but I am. If I had been better, stronger, I could have protected you from that.”

Sam smiled slightly. “You were strong.”

Dean winced. “Yeah, I guess I was, but obviously not enough. It still happened.”

“It did,” Sam agreed.

“And I’m sorry,” he said again.

“You are?”

“Yes!” Dean said emphatically. “I never would have done that to you if I could have stopped it.”

A strange smile crept over Sam’s face and he said, “Really?”

Dean reached to touch Sam and then pulled back his hand. They were having what was probably the first honest conversation together that they’d had in months. Dean had tried to be honest, but Sam hadn’t been with him. Of course, he blamed Dean for what happened, his hand had held the blade, but he’d not seemed to accept that openly before now. 

“I would _never_ have hurt you if I’d had a choice,” he said seriously.

Sam shrugged, that strange smile still on his face, and said, “Okay. Sure.”

“Sammy,” Dean started, but Sam was already walking away, out the door.

Dean followed him into the bar, shocked as Sam took his seat at the table and, still smiling, nodded as if agreeing with something. Dean wondered if the new honesty was down to Jo. Was she showing Sam the truth of what Dean had done?

Dean had hoped for a chance to apologize, for Sam to accept his guilt and forgive it, but that hadn’t happened. All Sam had done was accept Dean’s guilt and walk away from him, leaving Dean helpless to know what to do next.

He’d thought he would feel better if Sam accepted the truth and let him apologize, but he felt even worse now as there was no forgiveness, not even the usual lie Sam would have given him before. Dean deserved it, he knew, but he still hated it.

Maybe hiding Jo wasn’t the thing that was going to break them. Maybe it was Michael after all. 

xXx

They were walking back along the street towards their motel, and Sam was struggling not to wince each time the wings touched him.

They all had them, Michael, Castiel and Jack; they spread from their backs like black shadows and with each brush against him, Sam felt his control slipping. He couldn’t stop Michael until Castiel and Jack were gone, as they weren’t seeing the truth. They saw only Dean, he knew, and would want to protect him from what had to be done.

Sam was just waiting for the voice to tell him what needed to happen.

They stopped outside Sam and Dean’s room, and Michael said, “Cas, you can get the coffee in the morning.”

There was something forced in his tone. Michael wasn’t good at the human act. He was pretending to be Dean with the things he was saying and doing, and it was enough to convince Jack and Castiel, but they weren’t the ones that Michael confessed to. He had admitted what he’d done to Sam, and though he had apologized and done his best to frame it as if it was Dean talking, Sam knew the truth.

It had been almost funny to hear it, Michael’s struggle, as if it wasn’t the mighty archangel talking to him. The archangel was out of his depth with an act he’d never had a chance to master. All he had was Dean’s mind and memories, and they had always been an enigma to Sam, even though he knew him better than anyone in the world. The archangel was worse than helpless. He was also on borrowed time. Sam would soon be told what to do, and then Michael would be cast out of Dean and become useless grace on the air again.

Michael unlocked their door and said, “Night, Cas, Jack,” then went in.

Sam gave them a small nod and what he hoped was a reassuring smile—though they would not know the reason behind it—and then followed Michael into their room.

“You want the bathroom first?” Michael asked.

“Sure,” Sam said, amused at the idea of Michael imitating human actions that he had never experienced.

He grabbed clothes to change into out of his suit and went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He used the toilet and went to the basin to wash his hands. He scrubbed them with soap and waited for the voice to speak. It had to be time soon. Jack and Castiel were gone.

 _“Soon,”_ it whispered. _“Let him pretend a little longer.”_

Sam nodded and squeezed Crest onto his toothbrush then scrubbed his teeth. He stared at himself in the mirror as he did, seeing the excitement in his eyes and marveling at it. He had not been excited the last time he faced Michael; he had been determined and scared then. This time he knew how it was going to end, and that gave him a different kind of feeling.

He spat into the sink and rinsed the basin and then went back into the bedroom. Michael was sitting on the end of Dean’s bed, his hands clasped in his lap.

“Can we talk, Sammy?” he asked.

Sam almost laughed at the tension in his tone. Michael was trying so hard to sound as Dean would, but he was failing. He sounded too stilted, too nervous.

“No. I’m tired.”

Michael sighed and nodded. “Okay. I’ll let you sleep.”

Sam turned away and smirked. He was not going to be sleeping that night.

Michael went into the bathroom and closed the door. Sam lay down on top of the bedspread.

He rolled over, facing away from Dean’s bed, and closed his eyes, withdrawing into himself to ask, _“Is it time?”_

_“Very soon. We need to catch him off-guard. Let him get into bed. Let him be lulled by you. Then you will know what to do.”_

Sam lay waiting, only tensing slightly when the bathroom door opened and Michael came in and shut off the light.

“Night, Sammy,” he said quietly.

Sam didn’t answer. He wanted Michael to think he was sleeping already.

There was the creak of bedsprings as Michael settled on the bed and then breaths that were still too fast for Michael to be relaxed.

 _“Are you ready?”_ the voice asked.

 _“Yes,”_ Sam murmured back within his own mind _. “Tell me how to save my brother.”_

_“It’s not going to be easy. You’re going to suffer for it.”_

_“That doesn’t matter,”_ Sam said. _“It’s Dean.”_

_“You have to hurt Michael, and that’s going to hurt you, too. You will need to be strong and see it through.”_

_“I’ll live,”_ Sam said dismissively.

_“You will. It won’t kill Michael, but it will hurt him. The wound he got from Kaia’s killer will feel like nothing compared to this.”_

Sam tensed. _“But Dean will be okay?”_

_“Yes. You will take the damage for him. We’re just driving Michael out. And you can’t die.”_

_“I know!”_

It annoyed Sam that he was being doubted. Living or dying, he would do this for Dean. The fact he couldn’t die was good but dying was not the thing that would stop him doing what he needed to do if he would.

_“It’s time, Sam. Do you know what to do now?”_

Sam nodded and eased himself out of bed. The knowledge had not come in words but in a kind of awareness that he’d not felt since he overpowered Lucifer. The way to do it then and what to do after had been instinctive. This was the same, just a different monster this time. 

He checked that Michael wasn’t moving, the perfect pretense of sleep, and then crept out of bed and went to the duffel on the table. He extracted an angel blade and weighed it in his hand. It would do the job.

He slowly turned and crept toward Dean’s bed where Michael lay. He was on his back, his eyes closed and his breaths coming steady. If Sam didn’t know better, he would have believed he really was sleeping. Perhaps he was just lost inside himself, perhaps he was speaking to Dean the way Jo did Sam.

Sam leaned over and pressed the tip of the blade to Michael’s chest, right over his heart. It was harder to do it than he’d thought as it was Dean’s face he saw, but he forced himself to not freeze. He closed his eyes and prepared to shove it in, then stopped when Michael spoke in Dean’s sleepy voice. 

“Sammy?” His eyes opened and flared with grace as they moved between the blade poised over his heart and Sam looking down at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Get out!” Sam growled.

Michael’s face paled and he said, “Sure. Okay. I’ll go. Just put the blade down.”

Sam pressed down slightly on the blade, feeling it break the skin on his own chest as a small patch of blood appeared of Dean’s shirt. “I know this won’t kill you,” he said. “But it’s going to hurt.”

Michael’s face twisted into the smile he’d worn as he’d stabbed Sam and he said, “I’m not going nowhere. I am going to hurt you, Sam. I will break you apart and I will enjoy every minute of it. I will _never_ let Dean go.”

Sam shouted with anger as he put all his weight on the blade, shoving it into Michael’s chest. The pain seared in his own, and his heart raced and then faltered.

 _“No, Sam!”_ Jo screamed in his head, breaking free of the hold Sam had on her, keeping her down. _“It’s Dean!”_  

Sam knew better though. It was Michael he was stabbing, Michael’s laughter echoing in his ears, and Michael’s hands that were coming up to push him away and snatch the blade out of his hands. It was Michael’s face that loomed over him as blood gushed from Sam’s chest and soaked his shirt. It was Michael’s pain he heard as consciousness slipped away.

It was Michael that he had not been able to hurt enough to drive him out of his brother.

It was Dean that he had failed.


	36. Chapter 36

**_Chapter Thirty-Six_ **

 

Dean was speaking his brother’s name before he was even truly awake, aware on some deep level that something was wrong.

His eyes opened and he saw Sam bearing down on him with an angel blade between them, the point pressed over Dean’s heart.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice pitched higher with shock.

Sam’s eyes were tight with anger and his voice was a growl as he said, “Get out!”

Dean felt the color drain from his face as absolute horror and shock filled him. “Sure. Okay. I’ll go. Just put the blade down.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he pressed down on the blade, breaking Dean’s skin and making blood well around the small wound.

“I know this won’t kill you,” Sam said, “but it’s going to hurt.”

Dean’s mind reeled. What was happening? Was Sam really doing this to him or had Jo somehow taken over?

“Stop, Sammy,” he begged. “I’ll go. You don’t have to do this. No one is going to hurt you. Jo, if this is you, I’ll fix it, okay. You don’t need to do this. We’ll let you go.”

Dean was panicked. If he died, Sam would, too. Dean could take anything but that. Sam had to be safe. That was why he had done all this: to protect his little brother.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Sammy,” he begged.

Sam shouted with anger and leaned his weight on the blade. It sank into Dean’s chest and his scream came out as a muffled breath. The pain was incredible. At the same moment he felt blood slicking his skin, blood spread across Sam’s own chest and Dean realized what was happening. Sam wasn’t only risking killing himself with this by being linked to Dean; he was injuring himself, too. What happened to Dean happened to Sam. Sam was bleeding out, too.

His breaths came in rasps and his heartbeat was uneven and weak. He summoned his strength and pushed Sam away, his grip on the blade pulling it from his chest at the same time. Pain seared but grew less as the last of the blade left him and he started to heal. Sam wasn’t healing though. His face was stark white and his eyes faraway.

Dean supported Sam and laid him across his legs and then dragged them out from under him. He grabbed the blanket off his bed and pressed it to the bloodiest point of Sam’s chest. While Dean’s breaths were panicked pants, Sam’s were shallow gasps. The damage he had done to himself was catastrophic and he wasn’t healing, though the blood seemed to be slowing its pulses. Dean didn’t want to think about it, but he knew it was because his heart had received the most damage.

Sam started to shake hard enough that his teeth rattled and Dean groaned, “Hang on, Sammy.”

His voice rose to a shout as he called Castiel and then he gasped and recoiled somewhat as Sam’s eyes opened and fixed on him.

“You’re going to be okay,” Dean said. “You’re going to be fine. Cas!”

Then Sam’s eyes flared with grace and Jo looked up at him. “Dean,” she said weakly. “I can’t…”

“Heal him!” Dean commanded.

“I’m trying,” she said. “The sigil isn’t completely gone. It’s in his blood as well as on his heart. You’re keeping him alive now.” She moaned. “It was an angel blade, Dean.”

“Castiel!” Dean bellowed and then his eyes snapped to the door as it began to rattle in its frame and then flew open.

Castiel rushed in, Jack following him, and then both stopped and took in the scene in front of them.

“What happened?” Jack asked, his voice a cracked moan.

“Get the sigil off!” Dean commanded, not thinking of the risk of what he was saying, just needing Sam to be healed. He didn’t consider the fact she might leave. He was consumed with the blood that had soaked through the blanket onto his hands. “She can’t heal him.”

Jo turned her face to him and said, “He’s slipping, Castiel. Help me.”

Castiel ran forward and pressed his hand to Sam’s chest and concentrated. Jo’s back arched and she groaned and then, as her back relaxed on the bed, she brought up a shaking hand and held it over her chest. Light spilled from her hand and her face twisted with pain and then a serene kind of relief that lasted a moment before her features twisted in fury and Dean saw Sam’s awareness coming back.

“You!” he snarled, bucking under Dean’s hands and wriggling away.

“Calm down, Sam,” Dean said desperately.

“I will _kill_ you!” Sam said, not a threat but a promise.

He got away from Dean and scrambled to his feet, reaching for the blade where it had fallen on the floor.

“Stop him, Cas!” Dean shouted.

Castiel grabbed Sam’s shoulder and pressed his fingers to his forehead. Sam collapsed and Castiel caught him, carrying him to the blood-soaked bed and laying him down.

Dean stared at him, never more confused in his life. That wasn’t Sam. Sam would never hurt him like that. It made no sense. He had been strange, but not murderous.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Jack asked, rushing forward and tugging at Dean’s shirt.

Dean realized he looked as bad as Sam, the blood soaking his shirt and covering his hands. He pulled back from Jack and lifted his shirt, revealing bloody but unharmed skin.

“What do we do about Jo?” Castiel asked.

Dean startled as he realized the danger of what Castiel had done for the first time. “Put the sigil back! Trap her!”

Castiel didn’t hesitate to place his hand on Sam’s chest again and pour the light into him.  

“What’s happening?” Jack asked. “Was that an angel?”

“Yes,” Dean said heavily. “There’s an angel called Jo in Sam. She’s saving him. He’d be ruined without her.”

Jack turned accusing eyes on Castiel. “You said it was just grace!”

“Not now, Jack,” Castiel said. “Dean, what happened? Was he hurting you?”

Dean nodded weakly, his eyes on his brother’s face, smoothed by unconsciousness but still pale. Dean thought that he must be pale, too. He felt exhausted by the strain their bond had taken when Sam had been so desperately hurt. He thought he might collapse, but he had more important things to do than rest.

Knowing he had to act to stop himself falling, he got up from the bed and grabbed a large bottle of caffeine pills from Sam’s duffel and dry swallowed four, considered, and then took two more. He chased them with a bottle of the water they carried for Sam to sip on to keep himself hydrated and then stripped off his bloody shirts and threw them onto the floor.

“I woke up and he was standing over me with an angel blade,” he said. “He was telling me to get out, saying it wasn’t going to kill me but hurt, and then he stabbed me.”

“He could have killed you,” Jack said weakly.

“Yeah, he could, but he took the damage. I healed before it could really hurt me.”

He had not considered this facet of their connection before, but now he wondered if he could die at all. If the damage that happened to him transferred to Sam, could _they_ die? Sam took the damage and he tethered Sam to life. Was there anything that could kill them? He’d been stabbed in the heart and lived.

“Do you think he was trying to harm himself?” Castiel asked. “He could have been trying to…” He cleared his throat and forced out the words. “He could have been trying to kill himself through you.”

Dean swayed and gripped the table to support himself.

He didn’t want to think that, but the question was in his mind now, impossible to ignore. Had everything that had happened that day been Sam processing: the frank discussion about what Dean had done to him when Michael was in control, the way he’d seemed to be happy again, the fact he had told Dean he wanted normal. Was that his way of saying goodbye?

“No!” Jack gasped. “Sam would never do that. He would never hurt Dean, and he wouldn’t hurt himself.”

Dean felt Castiel’s eyes on him and with an effort he forced himself to meet them. “Maybe. But what do we do if he was? We can’t keep him out forever.”

“We can’t,” Castiel agreed. “We need to know. We have to talk to him.” 

Dean turned to his brother again and then nodded. They had no choice. As little as he wanted to see Sam deranged like that again, murderous, he had to face it if he was going to help him.

He picked up the angel blade from where it had fallen and tucked it under the mattress, out of Sam’s sight if he should possibly escape. Castiel and Jack would be at risk if he did, and Sam himself through Dean.

Dean took a deep breath and said, “Jack you hold him. Don’t let him go for anything. I don’t care if he breaks bones struggling.” And that was a real possibility with Sam’s strength and the fury he was filled with. “You have to hold him.”

Jack nodded and positioned himself on the bed behind Sam and pressed his hands to Sam’s shoulders. “I’ve got him.”

“You ready, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Are you?” Castiel countered.

“No,” Dean admitted. “Let’s get it done.”

Castiel pressed his fingers to Sam’s temple and then scrambled back as Sam’s eyes flew open and he started to struggle. He fixed a glare on Dean and shouted, “I will kill you!”

“Sam,” Castiel said loudly. “Talk to us. Why did you stab Dean?”

“To save him,” Sam growled, fighting hard against Jack’s hold, bright spots of color on the cheeks of his pale face. “Get out!”

“Save him from what?” Castiel asked.

“Michael!” Sam roared. “You don’t see, you can’t, but I do. He has Dean and I am getting him back.” He slammed his head back into the mattress and glared up at Jack. “Let me go! I have to stop this.”

Jack shook his head, his eyes wide and scared.

“Michael isn’t here, Sam,” Castiel said. “It’s just Dean.”

“No! I see him. He can’t hide from me anymore. Let me go and I’ll end this.”

“Put him out, Cas,” Dean said weakly. “Stop him.”

Castiel nodded and touched Sam’s forehead again as Sam jerked his head from side to side and growled expletives. 

“I’m not Michael,” Dean said.

“We know,” Castiel stated. “Sam is seeing something that’s not there.”

“Why though?” Jack asked. “Has something gone wrong in his head. Is he…?”

“He’s not crazy!” Dean said harshly. “He’s just…” He groaned. “He’s infected. It’s the wraith.” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “Why didn’t I see? He was doing so well, things felt right, and then he just switched. What he said about when he was hurt… It all makes sense now. He thought I was Michael.”

He should have seen it sooner, much sooner. He’d not given it the thought he needed. If he’d seen it, he would have been able to save Sam from this. He had hurt himself, would have killed himself, because Dean had missed the signs.

“So you saw the wraith,” Jack said. “I know about them. Mary told me. She said it was body fluid. Who has Sam, I don’t know, kissed?”

“Not just body fluid,” Dean said. “The wraith that infected me and Sam in the mental hospital was able to do it with touch. She was a nurse and got a little physical with our physicals. That did it.”

“Who has he touched then?” Castiel asked.

Dean squeezed his eyes closed and struggled to think. It could be anyone. He had to have touched dozens of people since they got into town. There had been… “The coroner,” he whispered, his eyes opening and blinking slowly. “It started after we saw the bodies. The doctor shook his hand but not mine. The police chief had ink all over his hands from his fancy pen; he didn’t touch either of us. And that was when Sam got weird. It’s the damn coroner!”

“Then we need to find him,” Castiel said seriously.

“Then what?” Jack asked in a strained tone. “How do we make him fix Sam?”

Dean shook his head jerkily. “No, we don’t need to. Last time it wore off as soon as the wraith was killed. We just need to kill him.” He looked down at his unconscious brother. “Then he’ll be okay.”

“How do we do that?” Castiel asked. “Do you think he’ll still be at the hospital?”

“No, he wasn’t the sort to put in extra hours. He was an asshole. He’s got to live somewhere close. We need to hack the city records. Only I don’t know how to do that. Frank taught me how to hack surveillance. Sam does all the other stuff still.”

“I’ll call Maggie,” Jack said.

“Use my phone,” Dean said, picking it up from the bedside table and throwing it to him. “Her number’s on there. We need a Doctor Norris Broughton in Fort Lloyd. Don’t tell her why. I don’t want Mom finding out about this and freaking out.” He didn’t want her finding out ever.

Jack tapped the screen and scrolled through menus for a moment before tapping it once more and bringing it to his ear.

Dean tuned out his words as he greeted Maggie and apologized for calling so late, watching his brother’s steady breaths. He looked awful, so much blood staining him, and Dean wanted it gone, but he had no time to clean him up now. He needed to fix himself up if he was going to find the doctor.

He grabbed clean clothes from his duffel and went into the bathroom to clean off the blood that coated him with a washcloth, throwing the bloody clothes into the tub. He’d get rid of them when this was done, and Sam’s; he wanted no additional reminders of what had happened.

When he was clean, he went back into the bedroom and saw that someone had covered Sam with a clean blanket and tucked his hands under it. He looked better without the blood stains visible, but he was still too pale.

“She’s going to text us the address,” Jack said.

Dean nodded, “Cas, you stay with Sam. Keep him out. Jack, you’re with me.”

Jack nodded, his face somber, but Castiel looked troubled.

“I could use enough force to keep Sam out for hours so that I can come with you,” he said.

“No, I’m not risking it. He’s got Jo in there, boosting him up. If he gets free, he could hurt himself or take off. Me and Jack can handle it.”

“And if it is one of Michael’s creations?” Castiel asked.

“I’ll be there,” Jack said. Dean’s phone beeped and he pulled up the message. “I’ve got it. He’s on Douglas Avenue.”

“It’s close to the hospital,” Dean said. “We passed it on the way. Let’s go.”

Dean grabbed the angel blade from under the mattress and tucked it in his jacket, cast Sam one more look and led Jack out of the door and to the Impala.

xXx

As they drove along the quiet streets towards the doctor’s house, Jack coughed awkwardly and said, “What’s going on, Dean?”

“We’re going to kill a wraith.”

“No, I mean with that angel. How did she get in Sam and what’s she doing there?”

Dean sighed. “It’s a long story, Jack.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, you just have to say,” Jack said quietly.

“Fine, I don’t want to tell you.” He chanced a glance at Jack and saw his face had fallen, making him feel guilty as well as stressed and angry. “It’s Jo. She’s an angel we met before you were born. She’s not exactly good, but she…”

He shook his head. He wasn’t sure what she was anymore. She had healed Sam and not fled when Castiel removed the sigil, but had that been to save Sam or herself? She had been injured by the angel blade, too.

“She helps sometimes,” he said. “When Sam was in the hospital after he was stabbed, there were complications and Sam was really ill. The brain damage was bad, like never waking up bad, and Jo tricked Sam into letting her in. She’s hiding from Michael, too, and I guess she figured hiding in a strong fighter was a good idea. But she got shaky. She was trying to heal but the damage was too big. The fact she’s in there is the only thing keeping Sam walking and talking. He’d be back in a coma without her. But she got scared and tried to take off with Sam. We stopped her and Castiel put a sigil on Sam’s heart to trap her inside.”

“Sam is really that ill?” Jack asked, sounding horrified.

“Yeah, probably more than you’re even imagining. He’s a wreck inside. But he didn’t know Jo was in there. She wiped his memory after he said yes. He only found out a little while ago. Me and Cas knew before that and we didn’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

Dean’s hands clenched on the steering wheel. “Because Sam would never want to be a vessel again. We were scared he’d kick her out and go back to being a vegetable. When he found out, it took some real persuading for him to let her stay, and we made a deal. She’s only staying as long as he wants her there. As soon as he says, Cas has to remove the sigil so he can kick her out.”

“What will happen then?”

“Then… Sam will basically be gone while still living. It’s only the connection between him and me that would keep him alive.”

Jack made a strange pained sound. “Oh.”

“No one else knows, not even Mom, and you can’t tell them. They’d treat Sam differently, and he doesn’t deserve that. You can’t treat him differently either. Jo is trapped down deep. When you’re talking, Sam is the only one that’s going to be answering. You have to remember that, Jack, or it’s all going to go to hell.”

“I will,” Jack said seriously. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Dean said, taking a right and checking the house numbers. “Game face on. We’re here.”

The houses that lined the streets were spaced close, so if the doctor started shouting, he was probably going to be heard. They’d have to be fast. He pulled them to a stop outside the right address and cut the engine. 

“We get in and out,” he said. “The sooner this thing is dead, the sooner Sam’s fixed.”

Jack nodded and said in an uncharacteristically serious tone, “I’m ready.”

They climbed out and walked up the few steps to the door. At Dean’s instruction, Jack blasted it and it flew open. Dean ran in, pulling the angel blade from his jacket, and followed the sounds of a TV playing into a large living room where the doctor was sitting in a comfortable recliner with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He put it on the side table and stood with a welcoming smile.

“Agent, I wondered when I’d see you.”

Dean glared at him. “I came as fast as I could. I had to mop up the mess you made of my brother.”

He smiled. “Your brother, yes; Sam, isn’t it? I heard a lot about him from Michael. He’s very angry at him. I think he will be even more pleased with me for infecting him than he would be for any number of hunters I plan to kill.”

“You’re one of Michael’s,” Jack snarled, his hatred of the archangel evident.

“Yes,” the doctor said. “And you’re the Nephilim. I heard about you, too.” He smiled. “I see you came armed. It’s not going to kill me, of course, that is an angel blade, and I am full of _archangel_ grace. Freshly squeezed you might say.”

Dean wanted to kill now, but something tugged at his mind and he forced himself to stop and think before acting. “When were you changed?”

“Upgraded, you mean? Only a few weeks ago. Michael found me and saw the potential. I’m not to be too obvious. I need to lure hunters, not create a situation, but I think I can shelve that plan for now. When I have infected you, when you are at my mercy, Michael can come back and take his _true_ vessel.”

“That’s never going to happen again,” Jack growled.

The doctor shrugged. “You really think? Personally I would like to see how my power works against a nephilim. I think the damage you could wreak with my influence would be a thing of beauty.”

“Enough,” Dean snapped. “You’re not getting a chance.”

He lurched forward, the blade held ready to strike, but the doctor was fast. He had his hand on Dean’s jaw, gripping it tightly, and Dean felt his mind clouding at once.

“Dean!” Jack cried.

The doctor laughed and threw Dean back. Jack caught him and steadied him, saying, “You’re okay,” but it wasn’t Jack’s voice Dean heard, and when he yanked himself away and looked, it wasn’t’ Jack’s face he saw. It was Lucifer’s.

“You!” he growled.

Lucifer laughed. “Me. Blood wins out, after all, Dean. How’s Sam?”

 _“Kill him,”_ a voice whispered to Dean. _“End him before he finds Sam again. He’ll destroy him!”_

Dean nodded and he raised the blade, seeing Lucifer’s smirk as he lined up the swing, but before he could act, Lucifer was shoving him away with a wave of the hand, sending him sprawling to the floor.

The doctor was laughing, and Dean was struggling to get to his feet, but Lucifer was holding a hand out towards him and a heavy weight was pinning him down.

“Let me go,” Dean snarled.

“I can’t,” Lucifer said.

 _“Banish him,”_ the voice, Dean’s voice, whispered. _“Bleed.”_

Dean tried to bring the blade to his palm, but Lucifer’s hold on him was too strong. All he could do was watch as Lucifer held out his free hand to the doctor and blast him with golden light. The doctor’s eyes widened and then he began to shake. Lucifer smiled as the light glowed brighter and the doctor exploded into a cloud of dust that floated on the air for a moment before sinking down into a neat pile on the floor.

“Are you okay, Dean?”

Dean blinked and Lucifer’s face became Jack’s again. He accepted the offered hand and Jack hauled him to his feet. “Damn,” he said. “That thing was _strong_.”

“What did you see?” Jack asked.

Dean was on the point of answering honestly and then he realized that would be cruel. Jack was not his father, but he feared that he could be. He didn’t need to hear what Dean had seen in his place.

“Just a monster,” he said. “Let’s get out of here. I want to make sure Sammy’s okay.”

“He will be though, right?” Jack asked. “You’re not seeing things anymore, are you?”

“No, but Sam’s experience was different.”

He’s almost killed Dean. He’d seriously hurt himself. Dean wasn’t sure which was going to be harder for Sam to handle.

xXx

Sam’s eyes flew open and he jerked to a sitting position, a blanket falling away to reveal a blood drenched shirt. He was on the wrong bed, with Dean, Castiel and Jack standing in front of him and watching him warily.

He plucked at the bloody cloth on his chest and asked, “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Dean asked.

“We went to the PD and then…”

 _“And then you went crazy,”_ Jo said acidly. 

The memories rushed at Sam and he lurched to his feet towards Dean, his hands coming to Dean’s chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dean said, catching his hand and pushing them down. “You took the worst of the damage. How do you feel?”

Horrified, Sam thought. He had stabbed his brother; he could have killed him.

“Disgusting,” he said, ripping off his bloody shirts and throwing them away.

“You feel normal though?” Castiel asked.

“You mean am I still wanting to kill Dean?” Sam asked. “No, that’s all gone. I don’t see Michael anymore, and the voice isn’t talking to me.”

“You had a voice, too?” Dean asked,

Sam frowned. “You were infected?”

“Yeah. When Jack and I went there to take it out, he got a hold of me and made me see crazy crap though. Luckily Jack was on point. He turned the asshole to dust. He gave Jack a look of pride that made him duck his head with a wide smile.

Sam nodded. “Good.”

He skirted them and grabbed clean clothes from his duffel and went into the bathroom, clicking the doors closed behind him. There was a pile of bloody clothes already in the tub, Dean’s, and Sam swallowed bile at the sight of them. That was Dean’s blood, so much of it, because of Sam. If not for their connection transferring the damage, they would both have died there and then from something as simple as a wraith.

 _“I saved you, Sam,”_ Jo said. _“And they locked me in again. I was helping, I healed you, and they did this to me again!”_

Sam ignored the voice. He didn’t care about Jo’s problems in that moment. He had enough of his own. He cleaned up and went back into the bedroom in time to see the door close behind Jack and Castiel, leaving Dean and Sam alone in the room.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean shook his head briskly. “No. I don’t want apologies.”

“I could have killed you!”

“But you didn’t. And it wasn’t your fault. That was one of Michael’s souped-up monsters that got you. I felt how strong that thing was when it had me. No one could have fought it.”

“Michael’s?”

“Yeah.” Dean bit his lip. “We’ve got a bigger problem than what you did, Sam. That wraith was only turbo-charged a couple weeks ago. That means Michael has a new vessel.”

Sam felt Jo flinch inside him, and he fought a groan of shock himself. This was worse than bad. Michael was powerful and able to act again. He could come for them at any moment.

“We’ve got to stop him,” Sam said.

“We will,” Dean said. “We’re looking for a dreamwalker, and Billie has to answer us eventually.

“You really think she will?” Sam asked.

Dean sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know, Sammy. But we’re going to find a way. He _will_ be stopped.”

 _“He has to be,”_ Jo whispered.

Sam flinched.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked. “Is she talking again?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. She’s scared. And pissed that you trapped her again.”

Dean nodded slowly and then stared into Sam’s eyes as he said, “I’m sorry, Jo, and I’m damn grateful for you pitching in, but we couldn’t risk it.”

_“Like I didn’t prove myself to you already?”_

Sam didn’t pass the question on. He was drained and frustrated. He was sick of things getting into his head. First Jo and then the wraith. He wanted it done. He wanted her out. He would help them find a way to stop Michael and then it would be over. He would get Jo out and deal with the consequences.

If it came at the cost of his ability to really live… Well, at least he would be alone in his own head again.


	37. Chapter 37

**_Chapter Thirty-Seven_ **

****

Sam was fixing a plate of scrambled eggs in the kitchen for yet another of his endless meals.

Now that he knew Jo was in there, it seemed pointless to stick to the diet when she could deal with any complications that came up, but he knew Dean would throw a bitch fit if he pointed that out, so he didn’t change his patterns.

It wasn’t just that though. Deep down, Sam was petty enough to not want to rely on her for anything more than he had to. She kept him functioning, and that was great, but she had tricked him, betrayed his trust, and for that, he had genuine hate for her.

_“I saved your life, Sam.”_

Sam cursed as he tipped the eggs onto a plate and then slammed the pan back on the stove. He hated it when she did this, and she knew it. It was bad enough knowing she was in there, but when she started talking, he couldn’t even pretend he was alone. 

_“At least you can talk to other people.”_

Sam grabbed a fork from the drawer and sat down with his plate to eat. He tried to concentrate on eating only, wishing he could wash the bland eggs down with juice but knowing he still had an hour before he could drink even water, but Jo continued to murmur until he finally broke and engaged.

_“You’re in there because you put yourself in there! You wanted a place to hide. You tricked me.”_

_“But I healed you, too!”_

_“Yes!”_ Sam said impatiently. _“And I’m grateful, but was that about me or you? I used an angel blade on Dean. Were you just saving me or were you worried about yourself, too? You were hurt, too.”_

There was silence for a moment as she considered and then she spoke, the words grudging. _“I was doing both. I could have healed myself and left you straight away. You would have been back to being trapped in that dark room, fighting to get free. I didn’t, though. I stayed.”_

Sam ate another mouthful of eggs and processed what she was saying. She _had_ stayed. He didn’t know exactly how much time had passed when he’d been unconscious after stabbing Dean and injuring them both, but he supposed there had probably been enough for her to escape before the sigil was replaced. She hadn’t, which did count for something as Sam didn’t want to be taken out of the game yet, not until Michael was stopped, but did that mean he had to give her something in return? He hated talking to her as it reminded him he wasn’t alone within himself, but perhaps he should. Maybe she deserved better from him for her help. He could talk at least.

 _“I’d appreciate that,”_ she said.

_“Can you please get out of my head? I’ll talk to you, but I don’t want you rooting around in my mind.”_

_“I can’t. I am not just in here, Sam. I am everywhere. I am in each muscle and inch of skin, in each organ. I see what you see. I hear what you hear. I know what you’re thinking because it’s a voice to me.”_

Sam shuddered. That was an even bigger violation than he’d thought. But what could he do? He was trapped in this situation for the foreseeable future. They had a plan for Michael—Jack or a rift—but there was no knowing when they would be able to put that into action, or if Jack was even ready to face him. They could get to him and Jack could be unable to open the rift at all. What would happen then? Would he kill them all but Dean, or would he kill Dean, too, now that he had a new vessel? How could they find out without risking everything?

 _“I don’t know,”_ Jo said quietly. _“But I think it needs to happen soon. Michael’s monster army is only going to spread and grow, and then we will be overwhelmed.”_

_“I thought you were scared of Michael. Do you really want to face him?”_

_“No, but I don’t want the world to end either. It might not seem like it, but I like it and want to live in it a little longer. My only other option is to go to Heaven and help them keep the lights on there. Heaven wasn’t good to me, Sam. It was my punishment.”_

_“For what?”_ Sam asked. He knew why Gadreel had been imprisoned, and he wondered what Jo had done wrong.

_“I was Joshua’s right hand. I loved my work. I was powerful and important. I was sent to earth for a while for a task, and I saw so much… The pain and suffering here were unimaginable. I had no idea before. Heaven is an insular place. After I saw earth, Heaven seemed different. When Joshua offered me more responsibilities, I refused. I wanted to help humanity more than I wanted to serve him. Because of that, I was cast aside. Joshua found me a new task, to count souls as they entered Heaven, and I languished for centuries.”_

_“If you cared so much about humanity, why did you charge them for help when you came to earth? You could have done so much more for so many.”_

He felt her sigh deep within him and then she said, _“I was angry. I was bitter. I wanted more. I made a life for myself—one that took money—and I lived it. But I didn’t forget what I had seen before. I do care about humanity. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want humanity to suffer more than they already are either. Michael has plans…”_

 _“He has to be stopped,”_ Sam said angrily.

_“I agree, and I will do what I can to help, but I have no plan.”_

Sam sat in thoughtful silence, feeling Jo’s presence close and thoughtful, too, as he ate the last of his small portion of eggs.

_“The person that killed Kaia wounded Michael when he was in Dean,” he said. “She had a spear. Perhaps that could do it.”_

_“Yeah, but Dean said she wouldn’t hand it over.”_

_“True… but maybe Dean didn’t ask in the right way.”_

_“Are you thinking of hurting her?”_

_“No. I think she’s too strong to be hurt, but I think perhaps we can persuade her if we find what she wants.”_

_“What if she doesn’t want anything?”_

_“Everyone wants something, Jo, you just have to find out what.”_

_“What do you want, Sam?”_

Sam set down his fork and got to his feet, dumping the plate in the sink and making his way out of the kitchen towards the library.

 _“Sam?”_ she prompted.

_“I just want to be alone again.”_

_“At whatever cost?”_

Sam didn’t answer. If she knew his thoughts, she knew the answer. He wouldn’t sacrifice anyone else for his own peace, but he would give up himself and the life he had now for it. Perhaps, knowing the alternative, he could go back to the dark room and listen to the muffled voices peacefully.

He heard Dean and Castiel talking before he reached the library, and Jack’s occasional interjections, but they all fell silent when he walked in. He figured they’d been talking about him again. He supposed it didn’t matter. There was no one in the bunker to hear them apart from him, as Mary had gone on a hunt with Bobby, Maggie and some of their people. They would never have spoken about him if they’d been there.

Before they’d left Texas, Sam had extracted a promise from Jack that he wouldn’t tell anyone else about Jo. The kid had seemed insulted when Sam had pressed him until he swore it, but he hadn’t let that stop him. He didn’t want any more of them to know what was in him than already knew. He didn’t want them looking at him differently, wondering who was listening when they spoke.  

As Jo had said, she was always listening.

Dean smiled at him, though it seemed forced, and said, “Hey, Sammy, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, pleased that his voice sounded normal. “I need something.”

“Sure. Anything,” Dean said without hesitation.

“I want to speak to the woman that killed Kaia.”

Dean sat up straighter in his chair. “Okay… Why?”

Sam’s brows contracted. “Because we need her. We can use her. She has the weapon that hurt Michael before, and, if she is Kaia’s mirrored half, she is a dream walker. She can help Jack open a rift, and if she gives up the spear, we can maybe kill him.”

“She won’t give it up, Sam,” Dean said. “We already tried. It’s the only defense she’s got against the monsters Michael sends after her.”

“Then we give her something else to defend her,” Sam said. “We bring her here. It’s the safest place on earth.”

“Michael got in once,” Jack said, sounding almost embarrassed.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, but she doesn’t have to know that.”

 _“Good point,”_ Jo said. _“Sneaky, too. I’m impressed.”_

Castiel looked strained and it was clear he was choosing every word carefully as he said, “Perhaps that will work, but we still don’t know if Jack is ready to face Michael. Neither Billie nor the reaper, Jessica, are answering us. We can’t be sure.”

That wasn’t a problem, Sam thought, Jack wasn’t going to be the one using the spear.

 _“It’s going to be you.”_ Jo sighed. _“You kept that close to the chest.”_

 _“I only just decided,”_ Sam said. _“But I’m the one that makes sense. He can’t kill me.”_

_“No, but he can blast you to atoms. You still wouldn’t die, but you’d be wiped off the face of the earth. You’d just be drifting consciousness. There will be no hope for recovery at all. If Dean and Cas find something else to fix you, it will be useless without a body.”_

_“Wouldn’t it be worth it?”_ Sam asked.

_“No.”_

Sam tuned out her continued, panicked argument and looked at Dean again. He knew her concern was for herself. If Sam was destroyed by an archangel, she would die, too, the same way Castiel had when Raphael and Lucifer each attacked him. He would sacrifice her for the world the same way he would sacrifice himself.

Dean looked cautious, as if he knew what Sam was doing when he spoke to Jo. Sam chose not to comment, to confirm or deny, he just pressed on with his need. “We get the spear as backup. It’s her ability to dreamwalk we need more than anything. That way we _can_ test Jack. The spear will just be enough to scare Michael. He won’t want to be hurt again.”

Dean and Castiel exchanged a long look laden with meaning.

“I am ready,” Jack said confidently. “I can feel it. I am at my full strength again.”

“Then you’ll be able to open a rift,” Sam said.

He was aware he sounded a little callous, but as he had no intention of letting Jack face Michael, he could handle the judgment he felt in Castiel’s wide stare.

“Where in Sioux Falls is she?” he asked.

“Just north of town in the woods Bobby took us maple tapping in that one time,” Dean said. “There’s a cabin she’s using. She was anyway. She’s probably moved on since.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s somewhere to start. Can I take the Impala?”

Dean looked startled, and for a moment Sam thought he was going to get protective about his beloved car, but then he said, “You’re not going alone,” and Sam understood.

“Then come with me.”

He would prefer it if Dean came. It was easier for him to be with Dean than it was alone. Jo didn’t talk so much usually—occupied with listening—and he felt better when it was just the two of them, physically at least. He could pretend things were the way they used to be before Jo.

Dean got to his feet and said, “Okay. But don’t get your hopes up, Sam. She might not be there, and even if she is, she’s probably not going to help us.”

Sam shrugged. “She might.”

“Shall we come?” Castiel asked, gesturing between himself and Jack.

Dean looked thoughtful but Sam spoke before he could answer. “No. You guys stay here and keep working on Jack’s powers. The more he masters them, the better it will be. We’ll be back tonight.”

“Sam’s right,” Dean said. “And she’s already going to be jumpy. Going in with an angel and a Nephilim isn’t going to help our cause, especially after what we did to her last time.”

Jack looked disappointed but Castiel’s expression was neutral as he said, “Okay. Call if you need us.”

“Sure,” Sam said, starting away from them toward his bedroom to grab his jacket and gun.

 _“This could be a bad idea, Sam,”_ Jo said. _“Even if she does give you the spear, how are you going to find Michael?”_

Sam didn’t answer, but she heard his plan in his mind anyway and groaned.

It was simple. Sam was going to pray. 

xXx

Contrary to Dean’s obvious tension, Sam felt better on the drive to Sioux Falls. Jo was quiet, processing what Sam had said to her, and it was only her stirring at the back of his mind that stopped him believing he might be alone again.

On the opposite end of the scale, Dean gripped the steering wheel hard and changed cassettes after only a couple songs from each. Sam knew that he was struggling, and he wondered what was getting to him. He didn’t think it was just Jo. He had a feeling it was Michael, and not just the threat he posed.

Sam understood ignoring things to make it easier to deal with them, but he also knew it was possible to drown under those things without knowing you were even doing it. He just wished Dean would talk. What Michael had done to him was more than just sticking him in a dream, Sam knew. Michael said he was distracted, and a being that had turned a world to ash and destruction wasn’t going to be as kind as Gadreel had been when he put Sam in that dream of a hunt with his brother.

He couldn’t push him to talk about it though, as there were things he wasn’t talking about either. They both had their secrets.

They pulled over on an area of dirt that served as a parking lot for the trail, and they climbed out and met at the trunk. Sam adjusted his gun in the back of his pants and grabbed an angel blade which he tucked in his jacket’s inner pocket. Dean did the same.

Dean slammed the trunk and said, “Stay close and watch out for monsters. We weren’t that deep before the werewolves appeared last time, and if she’s still here, he’s probably still sending them after her.”

“Got it.”

 _“You might want to get that blade in your hand then,”_ Jo said. _“They’re going to be faster than you.”_

Sam knew she was probably right, but they’d agreed not to go in openly armed as they didn’t want to put her on guard straight away or for her to see them as a threat.

“This way,” Dean said, setting off along the trail.

Sam walked with him, looking around and alert for danger coming. He could feel Jo’s presence close to the forefront of his mind, also alert for trouble. He knew her senses were much keener than his, and he trusted her to tell him if something was coming.

They were about five minutes along the trail when Jo said, _“She’s still here.”_

_“How do you know?”_

_“The monsters are still being sent. Look ahead.”_

Sam squinted and saw strange shapes that looked like stunted trees with strange clusters of branches. As they drew closer, he saw that they were branches driven into the ground like spikes with heads mounted on them.

When they reached then, Dean cursed and said, “That’s a damn wendigo. She’s even faster than I thought if she’s taken one of them down.”

Sam nodded. Even before being turbo-charged by Michael as this one probably had been, they could move faster than anything Sam had ever seen. This woman they were looking for was incredibly fast and could be incredibly dangerous to them.

“Come on,” Sam said. “She’s still here.”

They set off again but had only gone a dozen paces when Jo came to life in Sam’s mind, crying out in shock, and Sam’s heart began to race.

 _“What’s wrong?”_ he asked. _“What is it?”_

_“Michael! He’s coming.”_

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and snapped, “It’s Michael! Run!”

Without question, Dean started sprinting back toward the road, Sam at his side. They hadn’t gone far before Jo made a sound that was almost a scream that tore at Sam’s mind. _“He’s here!”_

A woman appeared in front of them, walking slowly in their direction, and Sam pushed Dean back and moved in front of him, his arms spread. Dean tried to move forward again, and Sam shoved him back only for Dean to come again. When Dean stepped up to his side and said, “Jessica! Thank God. You’ve got to help us. Michael is on his way.”

 _“That is Michael!”_ Jo cried.

Sam didn’t have a chance to pass on the message before Jessica’s eyes glowed with grace and the shape of wings spread out behind her, putting the trunks of the trees in shadow.

“Hello, Dean,” Michael said. “Good to see you again. And Sam… I’m surprised to see you alive still. How did you…” He frowned and peered closely at Sam then laughed softly. “Anael, what did you do?”

Jo didn’t speak, but Sam felt her wordless horror in his mind, ramping up his own. There was nothing he could do though. There was no way to run from this. All he could do was hope that Dean was spared.

Michael came forward towards Sam, and Dean lurched to stand between them. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him!” he snarled.

With a lazy movement, Michael pressed his fingers to Dean’s forehead, and he collapsed. Sam caught him and lowered him gently to the ground. His breaths were steady and his color good, but he was unconscious.

“He’s just sleeping,” Michael said. “I won’t damage the goods. Now, Anael, we need to talk.” He placed a hand on Sam’s chest, leaving burning pain in its wake, and Sam felt himself being thrust back in his own body and Jo coming to the front.

“How did you end up trapped in there?” Michael asked.

“I was betrayed,” Jo said. Her voice was Sam’s, but the inflection was wrong, impossible to confuse with Sam speaking. “I answered a prayer from Dean to save Sam’s life after your… meeting… and I took the vessel to heal.”

Michael scrutinized him. “You haven’t healed much.”

“It was too much. I could only support him enough to keep him functioning.”

Michael chuckled. “I see. And how were you betrayed?”

“Castiel trapped me inside him. I lost all control and freedom but my voice.”

Michael considered for a moment and then said, “I have an offer for you, Anael. I wanted Dean, he was a good vessel, but I want you more. You and Castiel are the only angels left on earth. As you said, Castiel is a betrayer and I have no use for him, but you… I can use you. Would you like to join me?”

“To do what?” Jo asked.

“To create a brand-new world. If you’ve been inside the Winchester since I stabbed him, you must know about the army I am building. I could use you at my right hand. What do you think?”

“Yes,” Jo said. “Of course.”

 _“No!”_ Sam bellowed. _“You can’t”_

She ignored him as completely as he often tried to do her. “I would be happy to. But what about Dean? Are you going to take him, too?”

Michael considered. “No, I don’t think so. I have a strong vessel now, and he might fight me again. I trapped him in a drowning dream when I had him before, but he was still difficult. I could feel him in there. Jessica is much more compliant since I broke her.” He smiled. “Even something as strong as a reaper has its limitations for suffering.”

Jo smiled. “I would have liked to see it happen.”

“Perhaps you will have the chance yourself,” he said. “Angels may be almost extinct, but the reapers are still out there, and I plan for them to be at my side, too. You can help me persuade them.”

Sam couldn’t believe he had been so stupid. He’d believed Jo when she said she cared for the world, but it had all been an act. She was just as twisted as Michael. And there was only one thing he could do. Cast her out…

He started to struggle, to get a grip on her and kick her out of his body, but she pushed him down and spoke in a growl. _“Stop, Sam! If I’m not here, you will be useless. You won’t be able to help anyone, including Dean.”_

_“I won’t help you destroy the world either! I would rather die than that.”_

_“I’m not destroying the world. I am helping. I have a plan.”_

_“What is it?”_

“Shall we go?” Michael asked. “There is so much we need to talk about, and the woman that lives in these woods can be a… problem.”

“I’m ready,” Jo said.

Michael reached for her, and as his hand touched down on her arm and Sam felt the almost forgotten sensation of flight, she whispered to him, _“You have to trust me, Sam.”_

Sam gave her no answer, there was none to give. He knew she was right. He had no choice. His only other option was to give himself up to the dark room again, and there he would be helpless when Dean needed him most.

All he could do was trust the angel that had never given him a single reason to.


	38. Chapter 38

**_Chapter Thirty-Eight_ **

 

Dean felt a blow to his side and his eyes snapped open and his hand caught the foot and dragged it up before it could land a second blow. He saw the woman that killed Kaia stumbling back as she dragged her foot free, seeming surprised that he’d dared to touch her as she steadied herself with her spear.

“You sleep deep,” she said.

“Getting knocked out will do that to you,” Dean said.

He got to his feet so she wasn’t towering over him and looked around, trying to make sense of his scrambled memories and disorientation. He had been with… “Sam!”

“He’s gone,” she said dismissively.

Dean grabbed her arms and shook her. “Where?”

“Get your hands off of me!” She shoved him away. “How would I know? I can’t fly.”

“Michael was here,” Dean said as the memory returned.

“Yes. Which means I have to go. He’s come for me in person twice now, and I don’t want there to be a third time.”

“Wait!” Dean took a breath and forced himself to at least appear calm so that he could get some answers. “Did he hurt Sam?”

He wasn’t sure she would answer at first, she watched him with a curious expression, and then said, “He’s your Kaia, isn’t he? What I was to her, he is to you.”

Dean nodded. The comparison was as good as any for what he and Sam shared. Kaia had been the literal other side of this woman and vice-versa. Sam and Dean were the same in their own way.

“He did hurt him,” she said. “He touched his chest and something happened. It wasn’t like it was your brother speaking after. I never met him, but I saw him through Kaia’s eyes. He was different.”

“Jo,” Dean spat.

Michael had removed the sigil from Sam’s heart so that Jo could be free. Was she going to stay with him still or would she abandon him now she could escape, leaving him helpless and alone?

Billie said Michael wanted Sam _and_ Jo—Jo to be his second-in-command and Sam to get at Dean—but he had left Dean and taken Sam. Had he moved on from Dean now that he had Jessica as a vessel? If so, why would he want Sam now? There was no reason, which meant Sam was only safe for as long as Jo wanted him as a vessel. After that, she would abandon him. Sam was a strong vessel usually, Lucifer’s own, but now he was damaged, weakened. How long would she put up with a weakened host when she could take her pick?

He didn’t know, but he knew he needed to get to her before she left Sam. She had to be found and Sam saved. And Michael needed to be stopped. It was time to throw their preparations and doubts away and fight.                      

“I need you,” he said.

“I know,” she said blandly. “But that doesn’t mean I need you.”

“Then just give me your spear. Michael has my brother now, I have to get him back, and we don’t have a weapon that’s been proven yet.”

“That makes me even less willing to hand it over,” she said. “If Michael comes back for me, I need to be armed, and I can’t rely on you to stop him.”

Dean tried to sort through his thoughts for what he needed. Sam would have been able to do this. He would have known what to say to bring her around to their side. He had been good at that. Dean didn’t have the skill, and he knew he couldn’t intimidate this woman into helping him. He could think of only one approach.

“Michael has come for you twice, and he’s been sending his monsters for months. If he comes again, it could be the last time for you to survive. We have a place that you can hide. It’s our home, and it’s the safest place on earth. It has all kinds of protections.” Michael had breached it once, but as Sam had said, she didn’t need to know that. “You will never be free while Michael is alive.”

“I am not fighting him for you.”

“Then fight him for yourself. Or trust me to do it. He’s got my brother now. I’ve never been more motivated to stop him, but I need a weapon. You have one.”

“You know you’re more likely to die fighting him, even with the spear, than win.”

“I know, but that’s not going to stop me. And I’m not the only one. We’ve got a kid with us that might be able to help. He’s damn powerful.”

She considered him carefully. “I will lend you my spear and I will come to this place.”

Dean exhaled in a rush. “Okay. Good. The car’s down here.”

As he jogged along the track towards the road, he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit speed dial. He needed to admit his failure now and get the others ready.

He had a weapon. They needed to find Sam. And then it would be time to fight.

xXx

Castiel and Jack were working in the library together—Jack creating orbs of energy and manipulating them.

Castiel could see that he was strong again, but he wasn’t sure it would be enough to stop Michael when the time came. They needed the spear as well. Perhaps with a trio of weapons—Jack’s power, the rift, and the spear—they might win. Even that was not guaranteed.

This was the worst threat they’d faced since Amara, and there was no God or familial reunion to help them this time. It was going to take the strength of them all and more than a little luck to win, and they weren’t all at the top of their game.

Sam was struggling, they all saw it and it had been discussed between Castiel, Dean, and Jack—the ones that knew about Jo. None of them had a solution or way to help though. Jo was necessary for Sam to live properly, and Sam was needed by them all. The violation that her presence represented to Sam was what was hard. Though none of them were to blame for her being in him, and Dean said Sam forgave them for hiding it, it was still the thing that lay between them when they were all together—the knowledge that it was never only Sam they were talking to.

“Look, Cas!” Jack said excitedly, spreading his arms and swelling the orb of energy until it was larger than Castiel had ever seen before.

“That’s good, Jack,” Castiel said, pleased he had created the right amount of enthusiasm in his voice for the achievement.

Jack grinned as he contracted the energy to the size of a baseball and then let it swell again.

Castiel nodded approvingly and then dropped his hand to his pocket when his phone began to ring. He took it out and checked the caller ID, pleased to see it was Dean. Perhaps he and Sam would have some good news of the spear for them.

“Dean.”

 _“Michael has Sam,”_ Dean said without preamble.

Castiel’s heart lurched. “What? How?”

Jack shifted restlessly at his side, leaning closer to hear the call.

 _“Does it matter?”_ Dean snapped. _“He knocked me out, and when I woke up, they were gone. Jo’s the one running the switches now, too. Michael stripped the sigil and they took off together. He’s in that reaper, Jessica, now.”_  

Castiel took a breath and said, “We can handle this, Dean. Where are you?”

_“I’m still in Sioux Falls. I’ve got the spear, and we’re coming to the bunker.”_

By we, Castiel understood that Kaia’s killer was coming there, too. Castiel was pleased. She had faced Michael and injured him before. If they could find a way to make her fight again, she would be an asset. He wasn’t sure they would as he had been there and heard Dean’s questioning of her. It was a hope he was going to cling to though. 

 _“We need to know where Sam is,”_ Dean went on. _“Get the blood spell set up and I’ll do it as soon as I get back.”_

“Mary might be here before you,” Castiel said. “She called shortly after you and Sam left to say she was on her way.”

_“Then have her do it as soon as she gets there. Do you know the spell?”_

“Yes.” With an angel’s memory, Castiel could recall it with perfect clarity from the one and only time he had read it in a book. 

_“Good. Get as many people back there as you can. Get them ready. You’ll have to tell them about Jo. We can’t keep it secret if we’re going after her.”_

“Jack is here.”

 _“I know,”_ Dean said, and there was something in his tone that Castiel didn’t want Jack to hear.

He pulled away so Jack couldn’t hear the call and said, “I’m not sure…” He struggled to find the words to say Jack might not be able to handle this.

 _“He might not be ready?”_ Dean said. _“I know that, and I know Sam would never forgive me if the kid got hurt trying to help him, but…”_

“I understand, Castiel said.

Dean cared about Jack, saw him as family, but he would also risk anyone and anything to get Sam back, and they both knew it. Dean would die for Sam in a heartbeat, he had before, and that would be easier for him to do than to risk someone else, but he wasn’t the one with the power here. They had to risk Jack—and themselves—to save Sam. Jack wouldn’t question it any more than Dean and Castiel would question risking themselves, but Sam would be destroyed if something happened to one of them.

It was only the fact that if the situation was reversed, if they were in danger in his place, Sam would do the exact same thing for them that stopped Castiel hesitating over his choice.

 _“I’m at the car,”_ Dean said. _“We’ll be there as soon as we can. Get ready.”_

“We will,” Castiel assured him then fumbled for something comforting to say about Sam’s strength, the things he had survived before, but before he could find something to say, Dean had ended the call.

Castiel lowered the phone and took a moment to think before answering Jack’s anxious queries. Sam was with Michael, and they had no idea what Michael or Jo would do to him. Jo could abandon the less than satisfactory vessel without a second thought if she found another that would serve her better, and then Sam would be ruined. Worse, he could be destroyed. If Michael chose to, he could blast Sam to atoms and then there would be no saving him, no matter what miracle they found in the stacks and rooms of the bunker.

“Cas!” Jack said angrily when Castiel failed to answer him a third time. “Michael has Sam!”

Castiel startled as he drew himself from his thoughts. “Yes. I know. I need to call Mary. She needs to know what happened.”

He dialed the number and Mary’s laughing voice answered, _“Castiel, your timing is impeccable. We just pulled into the garage. Get the coffee going and I’ll love you forever.”_

“Mary,” Castiel said awkwardly. “I need to tell you something.”

Her voice became harsh _. “What? What’s wrong? Is it Sam and Dean?”_

He heard the open and close of a car door on the line and then running footsteps.

“I’m coming to you now,” Castiel said. 

He hurried through the door that would lead to the garage, Jack on his heels, and almost collided with Mary and she ran towards him along the hall. Her face was pale and eyes wide and worried. Bobby, coming up behind her, looked stressed

Castiel hated that he had to confirm, or perhaps increase, Mary’s fears, but she needed to know. “Michael has Sam,” he said. “Dean just called. They went to Sioux Falls as Sam wanted to try to get the spear from that woman, but something happened. He has a new vessel. It’s the reaper Jessica.”

Mary clapped a hand to her mouth and made a pained sound.

“Dean is on his way here now,” Castiel went on.

“Michael didn’t take him, too?” Bobby asked.

“No.”

The strangeness of the fact occurred to Castiel for the first time then, too. Billie had said Michael wanted Dean as a vessel. Jessica would be a strong vessel to hold him. Was she strong enough that Michael would have her instead of his true vessel, or was he working on some other plan? Would he come back for Dean? 

“Why would he want Sam when he could have taken Dean?” Bobby asked.

Castiel took a deep breath. “Sam is not alone in his body anymore. There is an angel using him as a vessel, too.”

“Sam is a vessel again!” Mary said, her voice pitched high.

“He was very ill, Mary,” Castiel said. “His recovery in the hospital wasn’t a natural one. He woke after the angel entered him. Without her, he will be back in that hospital bed, only tethered to life by his connection to Dean.”

Mary moaned.

“Hold up!” Bobby said angrily. “We’ve all had an angel living with us for months and none of you thought we should know.”

“No,” Castiel said angrily. “It was Sam’s story to tell, and he didn’t want to. Besides, he hasn’t known long. Once she gained consent, the angel wiped his memory. When Dean and I found out, Dean much later than me, we knew we couldn’t tell him as Sam would have cast the angel out and destroyed himself. He was tricked into allowing her in, and when he found out she was there, he was going to cast her out. It took a lot of persuasion from Dean and me to convince him to keep her in. She was trapped inside by a sigil I carved into Sam’s heart.”

“You had to trap her!” Bobby growled. “So we have a _hostile_ angel with us, and you still don’t think we should have known?”

“No!” Castiel’s voice rose. “She was never a threat to anyone else. She is not a ‘hostile’ angel like the ones from your world. She just wanted to escape Michael and would have taken Sam with her. She is with Michael now and she is in control. I don’t know if that is by choice or if she’s trying to save her life, but it’s time to act. Dean is on his way with the spear and the woman that holds it. I need your blood, Mary, to do a tracking spell.”

Still pale and worried, Mary nodded and started away from them toward the library.

“We should have been told,” Bobby said doggedly.

Mary spun on her heel and threw up her arms as if she wanted to attack him, despite the distance between then.

“It doesn’t matter!” she shouted. “Michael has my son _now_! That’s what we’ve got to think about, not what you think you should have known. We’re going after Michael and we’re getting him back.”

“And if Michael kills us all?” Bobby asked.

Mary didn’t answer, she just stared into his eyes with a scathing look, as if the question was a stupid one.

“He’s not going to kill anyone,” Jack said. “I am going to kill _him._ ”

Bobby held up a hand. “Look, kid, I know you’re strong, and I’ve seen what you were capable of, but that was before.”

“Stay then!” Mary shouted. “Hide!”

Bobby’s face reddened. “Hide! I’m not a coward, and I’m not standing down now. I just think someone should ask the tough questions while you’re all thinking about Sam, not the big picture. If we go up against Michael before we’re ready and all die, he’s got free rein to do to this world what he did to mine.”

Mary walked away without answering, letting the door swing closed behind her. After a moment’s hesitation, Castiel and Jack followed her. Castiel thought that Bobby wasn’t being cruel but practical, but that was because he had no connection to Sam. He was a hardened fighter that had lived in a post-apocalyptic world for years, losing people on what was probably a daily basis at first. He wasn’t their version of Bobby who had loved Sam and Dean like sons.

Castiel went straight to the stores and filled a bowl with the ingredients needed for the spell. When he got back to the library, Mary was spreading a map of the world across a table and weighting the corners with whiskey tumblers while Bobby and Jack watched.

“I think we have to start big and narrow it down,” she said. “If Michael is flying him, he could be anywhere.”

Castiel nodded. He had no idea what they would do if Sam was out of the country, but it was not time to think of that. They had to focus on the small steps to save them from being overwhelmed by everything else.

He tipped the ingredients from their bags and jars into the bowl and held it out to Mary. “We need the blood now,” he said apologetically.

She drew a small folding knife from her pocket and cut across her palm deeply, making blood flow freely. He quickly held the bowl under it and let enough gather before setting it down and touching her hand to heal it. She thanked him quietly and wiped the remaining blood on her jeans.

Castiel swirled the bowl to mix the ingredients with the blood and then tipped it over the map. It spread across it smoothly, the magic already working, and Castiel took a box of matches from the shelf and lit one then threw it onto the center of the map, speaking the incantation loudly into the tense silence of the room. _"_ _Viam invenire!"_

Purple flames ignited the blood and licked over the map. A bright spot focused over Arizona and then moved north into Washington and quickly shifted to Maine. The paper didn’t char as Castiel remembered it should but just continued to burn.

“It’s not right,” Bobby said. “It settled in one place before.”

“They’re flying,” Castiel said.

Mary cursed. “Then what do we do?”

Castiel closed his eyes a moment and summoned calm to reassure and then said, “We keep trying. We wait for them to settle in one place. And then, as soon as we know where he is, we find them and get Sam back.”

“And stop Michael,” Bobby said gruffly.

Castiel fixed narrowed eyes on him and said, “Yes. We stop Michael.”

It could cost them greatly, but the other side of that was to do nothing and let it cost them everything. If they stayed here, protecting themselves, Michael would destroy this world as surely as he had his own and Sam would never be saved.

There were lesser things to die for than for the world. There was nothing more important than to die for a friend.


	39. Chapter 39

**_Chapter Thirty-Nine_ **

****

Dean had just called to say he was ten minutes away from the bunker and to check if they had a location yet, if the spell had finally settled in one place and they knew where Sam—and Jo by extension—were. It was Central Colorado. They gathered weapons and the ingredients needed to repeat the spell when they were closer, in hopes of nailing the location down more precisely and ran to the cars, Mary calling Dean to back tell them what was happening, and they set out after some argument with Jack that he not go flying off alone.

Mary drove with Jack and Castiel in the back while Bobby sat at her side, his phone tucked under his ear, and started the chain of calls that would bring his people to Colorado, too. When they stopped for gas, the woman with the spear switched to Mary’s car and Castiel the Impala, and Bobby took a turn at the wheel while Mary sat in the shotgun seat, her palms sweating so much she was constantly wiping them on her pants’ legs.

“Are you called Kaia, too?” Jack asked the woman sitting beside him as they drove onto Route 70.

The woman smiled slightly. “Names had no meaning where I came from, but I suppose, yes, I am called Kaia. We were the mirror of each other after all.”

“I am going to stop Michael, Kaia,” Jack said, and Mary thought he was reassuring himself as much as her.   

“How?” she asked.

“I have power. I almost destroyed him once, but I was… distracted.” Jack lifted the short sword he was carrying on his lap. “And I have this. It kills an archangel. Dean used it to kill Lucifer.”

Kaia sighed. “I have my spear, too, but I don’t want to use it. I don’t know if it will do more than just hurt him, and I am not willing to die for this world.”

“Then why are you here?” Mary asked bitterly.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice sounding as confused as Mary had felt when she’d heard about the angel in Sam. “Dean promised to bring me somewhere safe, and then we were doing a U-turn and racing somewhere else. I don’t know where this safe place is, and he has my spear still. I thought staying close to that and to the people that seem to have a plan was safer for me than being alone.”

“You won’t have to fight him, I promise,” Jack said. “But you might be able to help in a different way. I opened the rift that took Sam and Dean to your world, and if I can’t kill Michael, we thought we could trap him instead.”

“You can open doors to the other worlds?” she asked.

“I can if I have a dream-walker.” He shifted restlessly. “The Kaia I knew could do that.”

“So can I. If I help you open a world to trap Michael, will you open a world for me?”

Mary frowned. “You want to go back to that place? Sam and Dean said it was some kind of hell.”

“It was blood and pain,” she agreed. “And I don’t want to go back there. But there are other worlds. I have seen them. I want to go to one of them.”

“I can do that,” Jack said confidently. “Help me if I need it, find me a world for him, and I will find a place for you. I saw many with Kaia. They were beautiful.”

“I know,” she said in a tone of longing. “There is one I saw that…”

“Show me and I will send you there when it’s time,” Jack said.   

Mary watched over her shoulder as Jack and Kaia joined hands and their eyes became distant. She felt a wave of anger at the peaceful looks on their faces. Sam was gone, being ridden by an angel and trapped by Michael, and they were doing _this_! Had they no respect for the situation?

Her anger lasted long enough for Jack’s attention to return to the car and for him to say, “Yes, I remember that one. If you help us get Sam back, I will open a door for you.”

The look on his face when he said Sam’s name dissolved her ire and made her feel guilty for it coming at all. He was worried, too, scared for Sam, but he was being strategic. He was making a deal with Kaia that would help them, and he was playing down the risk of what they were all going into. He did care; he was just being smarter than her. While she was letting her fear rule her, focusing only on her son, he was thinking of the way they needed to get him back—dealing with Michael.

Perhaps sensing her distress, he was an unusually perceptive man even if he didn’t often show it, Bobby said, “You should all try to sleep. We’re still a few hundred miles away, and we need to be on top of our game when we get there. You haven’t slept in a day, Mary.”

“I can’t sleep,” Mary stated, holding back the question of _how_ she was supposed to sleep as she knew he was right. It had been longer than a day as the case had wrapped up late and they’d driven back after, still too wired to rest.

“You can’t help your son if you’re too tired to focus,” Bobby said. “You’d be a liability even.”

“I can help you,” Jack offered.

Seeing the sense in what Bobby was saying and realizing it might be better to sleep a while, Mary nodded and said, “Please, Jack.”

Jack leaned forward in his seat and cupped her cheek with one hand and touched the other to her temple. She was cast into sleep, only peripherally aware of the hand easing her head down and the rumble of the engine.

She opened her eyes to the bunker, her face pressed against the cool wood of a table in the library, and she straightened up and looked around. The room was empty except for her and a man facing away from her. His form was blurred, and she had to blink many times before he came into focus.

“Sam!”

She got quickly to her feet and rushed across the room to him, touching his arm and trying to turn him. He resisted, and she dropped her hand.

“Sam?”

He turned to face her slowly, and she gasped. His skin was the grey pallor with flushed cheeks of his feverish time in the hospital, and his eyes were deeply shadowed. If not for the fact he was upright and his eyes open, she would have thought he was the same man that had lain in a hospital bed for days, unconscious and desperately ill.

“Hello, Mom,” he said.

“What happened to you?”

Sam looked almost amused. “They didn’t tell you? This is me without the angel. This is what I will be when she is gone.”

“No,” Mary groaned.

“Yes,” Sam said, and there was a strange kind of triumph in his voice.

Mary cupped his cheek, and he allowed the contact, his face expressionless. “I’m sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have let you go to Michael alone. I should have protected you.”

“We needed Dean back,” Sam stated. “I was the price we had to pay.”

“No! You weren’t. We’re going to save you. We’re coming. We’ll find a way to save you.”

Sam chuckled. “We both know that’s not possible. Without the angel in me, I am nothing, and I will not live with her.”

“You have to!” Mary said desperately. “Sam, please!”

Sam shook his head and then his eyes flared with blue-white light and his face formed into an expression she had never seen on him before. Sam was gone. This was the angel.

“You know who I am,” she stated.

“You’re Jo, the one that is inside Sam.”

“The one that is keeping him truly alive, yes.”

“You’re the one that stole him. You took him to Michael.”

“I had no choice,” she said, a bite of anger in her voice. “He would have destroyed Sam without me in here. He wants me; that’s all that’s stopping him now. I am protecting Sam.”

“Is he okay?” Mary asked in spite of herself.

“He is… Sam.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t have time to reassure you or comfort. Michael could come back at any moment, and you might wake up. There are things we need to discuss. We’re in Colorado.”

“We know,” Mary said. “We’re on our way. We’re coming for him.” She realized when she’d said it that it was a risk, she didn’t know where Jo’s alliances truly lay, but it was too late to take it back.

“Good. Are you bringing the Nephilim?”

Mary bit her lip, unsure of whether or not to answer.

“You can trust me, Mary,” she said. “Sam does. If he didn’t, he would have cast me out already, even at the cost of his own ability to truly live. You need to tell me.”

In spite of her misgivings, Mary did trust her. “We’re all coming. We have Jack, Kaia, and the spear.”

She nodded. “You have to hurry. We’re in the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs. Michael is meeting me here soon. He left me alone for only a little while. I don’t know where he will take us next.”

“Can you delay him?” Mary asked.

“No. I can’t run or hide. He will find me. And if he realizes I’m not loyal to him, he will kill me—and Sam as well. You’re the only ones that can do this. I’m at South Gateway Rock. It’s in the north end of the park. I will be watching for you.”

“Okay. We’ll come. Can you tell Sam? Make sure he knows we’re coming to help him.”

“He won’t be happy,” Jo said.

“I don’t care. He needs to know we’re going to save him.”

Jo smiled slightly. “And what will happen to me when you come?”

Mary glowered. “If you really care about helping him and us, that won’t matter.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t. I’m scared though. Michael is strong.”

“I thought he wanted you. Why would he hurt you?”

“He won’t,” she said calmly. “But he will hurt the world, and humanity has already suffered enough.”

Mary felt her waking mind trying to invade and knew she was waking up. “Tell him!” she said urgently. “Make sure he knows we’re coming. I’m coming. I’m going to…” Her eyes flew open and she sucked in a breath as the rumbled of the engine and the bumps of the car woke her. “Save him,” she finished,

“Mary?” Jack said cautiously.

“Colorado Springs,” she said. “Jo is there, and Michael is coming. We don’t have long.”  She pulled out her phone and dialed Dean’s number. As soon as it was answered, she launched into speech. “They’re in Colorado Springs. Garden of the Gods. Michael is on his way. Dean, we have to hurry…”  

xXx

They were standing on the rocky ground near the base of a towering red rock formation in a park of many, some larger, some smaller, natural monuments. It was beautiful, illuminated in the light of the full moon, but Sam had no attention to spare on it. He wasn’t in control, he couldn’t move or control where he looked, but Jo was absent and it was quiet in his mind.

They were waiting for Michael, they had been waiting for hours, and Sam was helpless and angry as he thought of what would happen when he came.

When Michael had first taken Jo and Sam, they had moved around the country, possibly the world, and Michael had extolled on the beauty of the planet and what he planned for it—paradise for him, hell for humanity.

Jo had been attentive and seemed excited as she listened, but Sam had detected the conflict of what she was saying and what she was feeling when she looked around. He wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit, to stop him casting her out, but she had convinced him enough to not act.

He knew he would be helpless without her, but he also wanted no part of it if she was going to serve Michael as he wished. He would cast her out and leave her to find a new vessel while he was stowed away in a hospital somewhere, and the people he loved saved the world without him. He would give up himself to slow Michael down even a little. 

He felt Jo stir back to awareness inside him and his eyes moved around their surroundings without his control.

 _“Where did you go?”_ he asked.

_“I was speaking to your family. I waited for Dean, but he never came. Your mother slept though, and I was able to find her in her dream.”_

_“Are they okay?”_

_“Without you, of course not, but they’re coming.”_

_Sam felt a wave of horror. “They’re coming here! But Michael is coming!”_

_“That’s the point. They’re coming for you and him.”_

_“But they’re not ready. Jack hasn’t been tested yet. And Billie never answered.”_

She couldn’t answer, Sam knew now from what they’d been told, because Michael had bound her when she tried to stop Jessica giving consent. She was now as powerless to oppose him as the original Death had been. 

_“They know that, but they are coming anyway.”_

_“They’ll get themselves killed!”_

Jo sighed. _“Do you really expect them to not come when you are here? When they finally have a location for Michael? This is the end, Sam. It’s time for them to fight.”_

But they could die. Sam understood why they were coming, he would have done the same if any of them were in his position, but the thought of them facing Michael with Jack untested was horrifying. 

 _“What do we do?”_ Sam asked. _“You say you’re on my side, that I have to trust you, so how do we fix this?”_

 _“We do what we can to help them take their shot when they arrive. You and I can do nothing alone apart from perhaps distract Michael. Jack is the only hope.”_ She considered. _“They have the spear, too. That may be enough. They’re as armed as they can possibly be.”_

Sam groaned. They were armed, they were coming, but he was terrified they were coming to be killed, no matter what they were armed with.

He could lose his family today.

Jo fell into thoughtful silence, and Sam withdrew into himself to deal with his preemptive grief. He tried to believe that there was going to be a good outcome, that they would win, that Michael would be stopped, but the odds were higher in Michael’s favor. He was strong, and if Jo wasn’t to be trusted, if she warned him somehow before Sam could stop her, it would end for them all.

He had no way to track time, but it felt like endless hours had passed before there was a fluttering sound and Michael appeared.

He smiled as he saw Jo and said, “I’m sorry I was gone so long. There were things for me to do, investments to check up on. Now, let’s address your situation.” He looked them up and down, seeming to be staring right into Sam’s body, seeing the core of him. “Your vessel is weak, ruined even. You deserve better.”

Sam stirred anxiously as he waited for Jo’s reply. Michael was right, of course, but if she was gone, the little control he had to intervene, to cast Jo out and distract Michael at a pivotal moment, was lost.

“This vessel would be strong if he was whole,” Jo said. “He was Lucifer’s own.”

“Yes,” Michael said thoughtfully. “I can help with that.”

Sam cringed back in his mind as Michael reached out a hand and laid it on Sam’s chest. He hated the touch, it felt like yet another violation, but then pain like an electric shock overwhelmed everything else he was feeling, and Jo gasped air into his lungs. His head felt like it was filled with fire; it was all he could focus on for the endless time it lasted, and then Michael was withdrawing his hand and the pain faded to nothing.

“There,” Michael said. “That’s better.”

Jo flexed Sam’s arms and spread her fingers. “Thank you, Michael. It’s perfect now.”

 _“Did he just heal me?”_ Sam asked. If he had, he could cast Jo out now and be fine, though what he could do after he wasn’t sure.

_“Yes, but you can’t cast me out.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because they’re almost here, and I am going to be more help in a fight than you.”_

Sam heard the rumble of an engine and saw a spume of dust kicking up in the distance before there were the sounds of many doors opening and closing, and Michael’s laughter.

“They’re here,” he said with an amused smile. 

 _“Yes,”_ Jo whispered to Sam. _“It’s time. Let me handle it and they might live.”_

 _“Please don’t hurt them,”_ Sam begged.

_“I won’t. I’ve told you before, Sam, you have to trust me. I saved you twice, and I will do everything I can to save you and them all again.”_

Before Sam could form a response, Dean ran into sight with Castiel and Jack flanking him. Behind them came Mary and Bobby and the woman that had killed Kaia. Dean was gripping a long spear with a forked tip that was yanked out of his hand by the woman who held it close to her side.

Sam stared at them all, his fear battling his unexpected hope, and sent a desperate plea to Jo that he hoped would reach her, to make her keep her word. _“Please, help them…”_


End file.
